


i've a feeling it's time to try (love it if we made it)

by serenityandtea



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Disney-Themed Yoga, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Grief, Hand Jobs, Implied Mpreg, Kid Fic, M/M, Miscummunication, Mutal Pining, Not Enough Niall Horan, References to Nick/OMC, Sausage rolls, Single Parent Louis, Strangers to Lovers, Tracksuits Everywhere, famous/non-famous, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-05 07:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenityandtea/pseuds/serenityandtea
Summary: AU in which Nick is suddenly spending his Saturday mornings at a yoga studio and Louis' eyes are quite unforgettable.Nick is utterly and completely screwed, because he doesn’t remember things about people he just met, just takes them back to his place for a night of fun or sucks them off in dodgy club loos. He gets infatuated, then bored once the excitement of having someone new runs out. The fact that this seems to be something completely new and different is doing his head in.





	i've a feeling it's time to try (love it if we made it)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunsetmog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/gifts).



> You would not believe how I happy I was to read your prompts. I might have screamed out loud. This fic is a combination of one of your prompts, a little bit of another one, and your 'you should write something you enjoy'. I am not sure what exactly happened here and how it turned into this 40k _thing_ , but I hope it ticks all your boxes!
> 
> Many, many thanks to J, for holding my hand through this whole thing, helping me brainstorm, basically coming up with most of this plot, answering all my 'does this work?' questions, and for laughing with me as I tried to write proper smut for the first time ('Slot A in Slot B'). You're the best beta I could've asked for.  
> Thanks to A. and Z., for listening to me whine about this fic even though I never explicitly told you what it was about. Sorry! At least you can read it now? #makenickdoyoga
> 
>  **Warnings:** minor off-screen character death and a dash of grief. Nothing too graphic, but if you'd like to know more before reading, please send me a [message](http://brokenpartsmightfit.tumblr.com) and I'll happily answer all your questions.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Please don't send this to the boys and/or their families or anyone else mentioned in this. Any and all information about religion and kids yoga comes from Google and YouTube and I don't claim to be an expert. Title based on 'You Make Loving Fun' by Fleetwood Mac and 'Love It If We Made It' by the 1975.
> 
> Enjoy!

**i've a feeling it's time to try (love it if we made it)**

“You’re all prickly like Daddy.”

Nick groans as he tugs his bedsheets a little further over his head, squeezing his eyes shut and carefully batting away the tiny hands that are rubbing circles on his cheeks. There’s the smell of coffee and something disgustingly sweet close by and he wishes he felt even the slightest desire to move.

“Your dad wishes he was as prickly as me,” he croaks as he hugs his pillow a bit tighter. His stomach lurches as a small weight presses on his lower back and he breathes in sharply through his nose. He’s not even sure what he had to drink last night, but there’s a vague recollection of finishing off Pixie’s red wine after having done shots with George’s friends and he makes a mental note to never, ever, do that again.

“Up, up, up.”

Nick groans when he hears the chipper voice of his goddaughter. When he carefully opens one eye to squint at the alarm clock on his side table, he groans again. The sun shouldn’t even be up yet.

Wiggling his bum, he dislodges his goddaughter from his back and rolls onto his side dislodging his duvet as he pulls her close to him. Her black curls immediately find their way into his mouth and Nick would splutter if he had the energy to do so.

“We’re going to stay in bed the whole day,” he says, pulling the duvet over the two of them. “Pig will make us some brekkie and we’ll send Stinky out for some crisps while we see if Peppa Pig likes her holiday in Australia or if she gets eaten by that evil kangaroo.”

Gidget giggles, shaking her head wildly and Nick’s heart skips a beat like it tends to do when he’s around her. It’s completely ridiculous.

“No? You don’t want crisps?”

She shakes her head again, but before she can reply, someone clears their throat.

“You better not be feeding my child crisps for breakfast,” Daisy says from what Nick presumes is the doorway. He’d check if he could only be bothered to open his eyes.

“Of course not. Only eat broccoli, kale and sprouts, us.”

“Only veggies,” Gidget confirms, tugging herself free from Nick’s grasp. She elbows him in the stomach a few times as she crawls over him to get to her mum, and Daisy must see the discomfort on his face, because she wordlessly hands him a paracetamol and a glass of water. 

He carefully sits upright, wincing as his temple immediately starts throbbing. It’s almost like his body is telling him that three hours of sleep, after partying all night, is not something he can do anymore now he’s twenty-nine. Which, he thinks, is absolutely ridiculous. He’s in the prime of his life. He’s still got at least two years, maybe three, before he’s forced into a lifestyle of rubbish Friday-night telly, early-morning weekends and Sundays dedicated to meal prepping.

“I’m heading out,” Daisy says as Nick swallows back his pills. “Baby yoga starts at nine. Gidge has had breakfast and I’ve left her bag by the door, so she’s good to go.”

Even the thought of breakfast makes Nick’s stomach turn in an all too familiar way. 

“I’m good,” Gidget grins at him, dimples out in full force. Nick’s pretty sure that, as a child, it ought to be illegal to be that adorable. It’s like she’s a carbon copy of Daisy, only in a tiny, pocket-sized version, with the addition of Harry’s dimples and bloody unruly curls. It’s like the universe gave her all the good genes and Nick’s heart weeps for all those children out there that missed out.

“The best.” He tugs her back by her waist, letting the two of them fall over. “Now, say goodbye to Mummy. We can still sleep for half an hour and then we’ll only be fashionably late.”

“Please don’t,” Daisy sighs, but she still presses a kiss against his temple. “I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

Nick mumbles his response, face pressed in Gidget’s curls as she squirms against his chest. “We’ll be fine. Go on. They can’t have a photoshoot without their best model, can they? Say ‘bye, Mummy’, Gi.”

“Bye, Mummy, love you,” Gidget repeats dutifully, raising her arm in a half-hearted attempt at a wave.

Daisy sighs again. “Bye, sweetheart. Love you too. Behave for Uncle Nick, alright?”

He feels his goddaughter nod against his chin and he tightens his arms around her as he maneuvers around a bit to get the sheets over the both of them.

“I mean it, Grim. Please get her there on time.”

He doesn’t reply, but he hears the bedroom door close a couple of seconds later and his dogs going mad. By the time Pig’s excited barks have quieted down, Nick’s already fallen back asleep.

*

As it turns out, ‘fashionable late’ is not a concept that can be applied to a kids yoga class. They arrive with just five minutes to spare, after having only woken up when Pig had started scratching against the bedroom door. Nick had hastily tried to put Gidget’s hair into something that resembled a bun, but, as they’d done a bit of headbanging to the Stones on the drive, her face was once again now framed by lovely, but not yoga-proof, curls.

It makes him cringe a bit, how he’s seen at least five other children with their mini Nike yoga pants and perfectly neat ponytails. Nick decisively does not look at the mums. The thing is, Nick likes letting Gidget wear whatever she deems appropriate. Whether that is her red Gucci coat when they go out to the shops or her fuzzy elephant slippers for Sunday brunch, he’ll just nod and throw in a comment about how she looks positively dashing. Her fashion sense is weird, _unique_ , Harry would say, but Nick loves it. Even now, when she’s wearing a pastel purple top and bright-yellow leggings that make his eyes hurt a bit.

He keeps his eyes down as he pushes her into the room, ignoring the looks that he is certain are thrown their way. There’s a massive spot on his joggers from where he tried to balance a chocolate hobnob on his leg the other day, he’s got a three-day old scruff that has the potential to turn into a beard, maybe, and he’s pretty sure a bird could take up residence in his hair and have a whale of a time. It’s all fine and well for the radio but he’s quite sure people are judging him right now.

“Now,” he says quietly as he puts her small, bright-pink yoga mat on the floor, and attempts to re-do the headbang-ravaged bun. “I’ll be right on that bench, watching you, yeah? And then when you’re done, we’ll pop by Waitrose and go home for a cuddle until your mum comes back.”

There’s a tiny frown on her face, but she still nods. “Kay.”

Nick pets her head twice, a bit awkwardly. Getting off his knees turns out to be a lot more effort than anticipated and he stubbornly ignores the sound of his joints creaking as he gets up. _Twenty-nine going on ninety_ , Nick thinks, walking to the back of the class.

“Excuse me? Sir?” a soft, northern voice calls out, just as Nick is about to plop down and maybe lean his head against the wall and rest his eyes for a moment.

“Yes?” he says, turning around and almost bumping straight into the guy behind him, grabbing a pair of arms before he loses his balance. They’re nice and firm.

“We would like to start the class, so if you could please join your daughter?”

It takes him one, two, three blinks before the words catch up with him and he quickly lets go. “Join my daughter?”

“Gidget?” the man says, staring up at him as he points to the right of the room where the girl sits with a big grin on her face. Nick tries to look away from the bright blue eyes in front of him. “She’s waiting for you. We’d like to get started, please.”

“Right, right,” he mumbles, blinking a couple of times.

Taking a deep breath, he begins composing a series of texts to Daisy in his head. He’ll never actually send them, he likes to think he’s too nice for that and besides, Daisy probably wouldn’t reply anyway, but it’s the thought that counts. Like writing letters and then burning them. Therapy, like.

“Lovely.”

Nick makes his way back to his goddaughter as the guy walks to the front of the class. He slowly sits down next to Gidget on her yoga mat and she immediately cuddles up to his side. 

“That’s Mr Louis,” she says against his chest and Nick hums. He really should’ve put on different joggers this morning.

“Great! Now that we’re all here,” Mr Louis says and Nick is pretty sure he did not imagine the pointed look at them, “I’d like to thank all the mums and dads for coming in this early and sharing this class with us. We’re well excited that you’re all here for this special occasion. Now, Archie has picked this week’s theme, so we’re all going to be the best lions, lionesses and cubs we can be, alright?”

There’s a murmur of agreement and Nick is pretty sure he’d hate all this, if it wasn’t for the way that Gidget looks at him with excitement in her eyes.

“It’s _the Lion King_ ,” she whispers, maybe a tad too loudly. “Do you want to be my Pride Rock, Uncle Nick?”

Before Nick can reply, there’s a loud clap from the front of the room.

“Now, let’s get started. We’re gonna get nice and comfy first, bum on the mat and our legs crossed like a little monkey.”

Gidget immediately fumbles around, elbowing Nick in the sides until she’s sitting crossed-legged in front of him. When she raises her eyebrows at him, Nick hastily copies her.

“We’re going to close our eyes, and take a couple of deep breaths. Perfect. Coco, c’mon, cross your legs like a monkey. Just like your mum is doing. Yes, excellent.”

The room is dead quiet and he feels a bit uneasy. He breathes in.

“Now, we’re going to shift forward slightly and move onto our knees and sit on our bum. Like a lion, okay? We’re all going to be majestic lions and lionesses who rule over the kingdom. You all look incredible. On our next exhale, I want you all to give me your best lion’s breath. We’re gonna take the deepest breath we’ve taken all morning and then as we breathe out, we’re gonna stick out our tongue and exhale real loud. Inhale, and…”

Nick peeks through his eyelashes as Gidget sticks her tongue far out, letting out a pretty impressive almost-growl. He tries to contain his grin as he breathes out through his nose.

“That sounded so good, lads. Slowly come onto your knees…”

It’s almost effortless, how Louis manges to coach a bunch of kids through cat cow pose, making them moo on every inhale and hiss on every exhale. It’s actually fun, nothing like how his own yoga classes used to be, when Harry was still around to do stupid shit with him instead of gallivanting across the globe.

It’s not until they have to bow to Simba like the giraffes and gazelles that they are, that things go a bit south. He’s in downward facing dog, Gidget under him in her own variation of the pose, when suddenly, he feels his stomach lurch. He quickly drops to his knees, nudging Gidget in her bum as he does so and she topples forward. Taking deep breaths through his nose, he gives her a small smile as an apology and to reassure her that he’s just peachy. All she does is frown at him.

“Mr Louis, I think he's going to be sick.” Her voice rings loud through the room and Nick groans, but that only seems to set off his headache even more. He leans his head back and takes another deep breath. The contents in his stomach roll again.

Louis immediately hurries over, and when Nick looks up, there’s concern written on his face. “Are you okay?”

Nick nods as Gidget feels his forehead. “Yeah, fine. Just a bit nauseous. Should be fine in a tic.”

“Maybe you should sit this one out,” Louis says, lip caught between his teeth. Nick is about to protest because he still has to be the best Pride Rock this class has ever seen, when Louis continues. “Gidget, can be my helper. That okay, love?”

It seems like it’s more than okay with her, since he’s bobbing her head earnestly. “Yes, please. He's not very good at yoga, Mr Louis.”

“C’mon then,” Louis smiles and Nick honest to god tries not to count the lines by his eyes when he does.

Seven on the left, four on the right.

Gidget happily takes her teachers hand as he offers it to her and Nick takes one more deep breath before he slowly gets up. He ignores the muffled giggles around him as he makes his way to the back, ignores the guilt that now seems to have settled in his stomach too for abandoning his goddaughter. Flopping down on the wooden bench, he lets out a sigh as he rest his head on his arms. It would be even better if they could turn the bloody lights off so him and his headache could wallow in peace for a bit, but he guesses he’ll just have to deal.

He’s not exactly sure when he drifts off, somewhere between Louis telling them all do be their best, quiet giggling hyenas and him explaining how to best transition into Zazu as their parents hold them up, but he wakes up to a sharp poke in his cheek.

A pair of brown eyes stare intensely at him and Nick blinks a couple of times. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Nick replies, taking in the little boy who’s sitting crossed legged in front of him with an iPad in his hands. It’s obvious that he’s younger than any of the kids in the class, his slightly too big bear onesie hanging loose around his frame. It matches his brown eyes exactly, though, and Nick melts slightly on the inside.

“Play game?”

As he hoists himself in an upright position, Nick’s eyes dart across the room. “Is your mum here, love?”

The boy shakes his head but then points to the front of the room. “Daddy.”

Realistically, Nick knows there’s only one person in this room who could fit that description, but he still let’s his eyes go around the room until they settle on Louis. 

He blinks a couple of times, but a sharp tug on his joggers bring him back to reality. “Game?”

Nick exhales. “I’d love to play a game. What’s your name?” He’s careful to keep his voice low. Interrupting the class once was more than enough for the day.

“Max Maymun,” the boy mumbles back, staring up at him.

“Strong name,” Nick mumbles, reaching out to move the black hair out of the boy’s eyes, but he catches himself and sharply tugs his hand back. “You wanna come up here? What games do you have?”

Three minutes later, Nick finds himself putting together a puzzle of an apple with Milo the Monkey as Max sits in his lap. He’s not really doing anything, mostly just looking over the top of the boy’s head to the screen and correcting him every once in a while when the frustration gets too much, but it’s nice. Max seems to be dead quiet when compared to Gidget or even Arlo and it’s a nice change of pace. He can’t really connect any of it to Louis, who seems to be the brightest thing in the room as he tells everyone to really go for it as they pretend to run through the jungle while they lie on their backs, and who seems to never run out of energy, but it’s there in how both of them move their fringe away from their face in the same manner and how there’s that slight northern twang to Max’s voice, too.

“Do you think we can count up to ten bananas?” he asks Max as the boy’s fingers swipe over the screen to find his next game. They’ve been mostly been doing puzzles and shapes this whole time, but he likes a bit of a challenge.

“That better not be a euphemism.”

Nick’s head snaps up, his eyes settling on Louis. He’s got his arms crossed across his Adidas sweatshirt, and Nick doesn’t like that he can’t decipher the look on the other man’s face. He leans away from Max a bit.

“Nah,” he shrugs. “Was gonna see how smart the kid is. We did great at the puzzles, didn’t we? Figure it was time for some counting.”

“He’s plenty smart,” Louis snaps.

“I didn’t- I didn’t say he wasn’t,” Nick mumbles, not really liking where this is going. He’s not big on confrontation. “He solved that apple puzzle in like, ten seconds. By the time I’d figured out what was going on, he’d already finished.”

Max turns around to smile at him then, and Nick crosses his eyes, just because he can. It gets him a giggle in return and he looks up again to smile at Louis, because _see_ , they both think the other is brilliant, but it drops when he’s met with Louis’ icy glare.

“‘S not that hard, is it,” Louis huffs. “You don’t seem to be too smart yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

Max seems to have picked up on some of the tension, his attention now solely focussed on his dad and a confused frown on his face. Nick’s right there with him.

“I said, you don’t seem to be too smart yourself. Showing up hungover to your daughter’s class. Not very responsible, is it?”

For a just a second Nick wonders how Louis knows that he’s not just sick, but it is quite possible that his whole body screams ‘went on a two-day bender this weekend’. Then, his mind catches up on what Louis said.

“She’s not my daughter,” Nick bites out, even though he tries to keep his tone neutral. “I was doing her mum a last-minute favour and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t judge me, mate. _”_

The _mate_ is a bit sharp, but Nick watches in fascination as Louis eyes widen and a blush starts creeping up on his cheeks. Huh.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” he sighs and the apology seems to take a lot of effort. “I didn’t mean that. Or like, I didn’t mean to judge you. ‘S just that people usually assume he’s a bit slow with him being all quiet-like. Get a bit defensive about that. ‘S nothing personal.”

Nick waves him off, relief already spreading through his body at another crisis averted. “‘S okay. He’s brilliant, though. I’d happily trade him for my goddaughter for a couple of hours, if you’d fancy experiencing the total opposite for a change. With the chatter, I mean. Not that she’s not like, dead smart.”

It gets a laugh out of Louis. “I think we’re alright, ta. I’ve seen what she gets up to when class is over. Don’t think I’d survive even for a couple of hours.”

That’s very reasonable, Nick thinks. Hanging around with Gidget for more than five minutes is what he imagines standing in the middle of a tornado feels like. He usually can’t get enough of it, welcomes the constant energy, but he’s always somewhat relieved when he can just hand her back to Daisy or Harry after.

“Fine, fine,” he sighs, and he carefully lifts Max off his lap and onto the ground by his armpits, making sure he’s standing upright before letting him go. “I should probably make sure she gets home, then. Before she convinces someone she absolutely needs a playdate and ruins all my plans of catching a nap this afternoon while she’s distracted by Peppa Pig.”

Louis laughs. “Good luck with that,” he says, hoisting Max up on his hip almost effortlessly.

“Thanks,” Nick replies, wincing as he gets to his feet. “Thanks for like, letting Gidget do the class with you, I really appreciate it. My stomach is very grateful, too.”

“Of course. ‘S what I’m here for, innit?”

Nick hums in reply, stretching his arms a bit before he quickly pokes Max in his side, coaxing a laugh out of the boy. “I expect you to be at least counting to a hundred next time I see you, lad.”

“No,” Max giggles, shaking his head against his dad’s neck. Nick grins at the sight, takes in how Louis’ face goes soft within seconds, how Max’s fist is clenched tight in the sweatshirt.

“I’ll see you again, maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Louis says softly, as he gives Nick a small smile.

Nick nods, giving the both of them a wave before he makes his way over to his goddaughter, who, of course, is surrounded by at least six other, very loud, kids. He accepts the wonky rolled up yoga mat as she pushes it in his hands and takes her bag off the floor as she says goodbye to her friends, air kisses and all. It doesn’t take long before he’s pushed out of the room by a pair of small hands in his back, Gidget demanding that they go past Waitrose _right now_ , because she’s _dying for a quiche, Uncle Nick,_ and if she _doesn’t get one now, I’ll literally die._

Nick’s glad her impeccable genes came with a flair for the dramatics, too.

*

“How soon can you file for a divorce?”

They’re a mess of blankets and quiche crumbs and dogs on the couch, Gidget holding Nick’s phone out before her as Nick tries to carefully detangle her curls. She’d been begging to Facetime her dad after her bath and Nick’s never sure what time it is where Harry is now, if he’ll be right in the middle of an interview or about to go on stage, but somehow, the calls never go unanswered. Even when he looks as wiped as he does currently, eyes tired and narrowed as he looks at Nick through the tiny screen.

“I’m not- What did Daize do?” he sighs.

Nick snorts as he brushes Gidget’s hair out of her face. “Your lovely wife called me at two a.m. last night while I was out, asked if I could take your daughter to her nine a.m. yoga class and then forgot to mention they were doing some sort of parent-kid thing, so I almost threw up on your child. In my best downward dog. You’d have been proud.”

Harry groans, hand raking through his curls. Nick pulls the brush away from Gidget’s head as she copies her dad.

“I said she shouldn’t ask you if you were busy,” Harry says. “I swear, Grim. She could’ve asked her mum or something.”

“Uncle Nick wasn’t busy,” Gidget pipes up, reaching up to hand Nick a hair tie. “He was sleeping.”

Nick carefully tugs on one of her curls. “Excuse you, I was very busy sleeping.”

He catches Gidget raising her eyebrows at her dad on the little screen. Harry laughs at that and Nick tries to hide his grin in her hair, before she starts realising that the both of them think she’s funny. She doesn’t really need the encouragement. 

“Want to tell me about the class, bug?” Harry asks, eyes only on his daughter. “Did you learn anything cool?”

Gidget nods excitedly, Nick’s hands following the movement as he twists her hair in a messy bun. As she goes into a detailed description of how she got to be the Zazu in Louis’ tree, Nick carefully slides out behind her, throwing a quick wave over Gidget’s head to Harry, before he escapes to the kitchen with Stinky. His headache seems to have died down a bit after some proper food and probably way too much aspirin, but the quietness is a welcome relief.

He tries not to listen in to the conversation, wants Harry to have that alone time with his daughter because Nick _knows_ he doesn’t get nearly enough of it these days, but he still catches flares of laughter and parts of sentences as he rests his head on the dinner table. It’s all _Mr Louis this_ and _Mr Louis that_ and Nick tries not to let his mind go to places it really shouldn’t go. Bright blue eyes, Adidas sweatshirts and soft fringes. How Louis looks too young to have a kid, younger than Harry even, maybe. How careful the other man seems to be handling his son, protective and soft. How Nick is utterly and completely screwed, because he doesn’t remember things about people he just met, just takes them back to his place for a night of fun or sucks them off in dodgy club loos. He gets infatuated, then bored once the excitement of having someone new runs out. The fact that this seems to be something completely new and different is doing his head in.

He groans as he lifts his head off the table and moves over to the kettle, flicking it on as he grabs some biscuits from the cupboard. If he’s going to have to deal with this, he’ll do it while having a cup of tea and a cuddle with his favourite girl.

*

The universe works in mysterious ways.

At least, Nick thinks it does because he has no other possible explanation for why he’s at Gidget’s yoga class for the second time that month. She has about twenty aunties and about the same amount of uncles, and yet, here he is. The only one who was able to take her in for the weekend when Anne fell ill and Harry and Daisy were off on some romantic holiday doing god-knows-what while they both had a couple of days off. He’d almost accuse each and every single one of them of conspiring against him by saying they were too busy, but he’s been mum about how he still hasn’t forgotten the exact shade of blue of a certain someone’s eyes after three weeks, so it’s probably just a complete coincidence with a splash of karma.

As they enter the little studio, Gidget races through the door, already pointing to the spot where she wants Nick to put her mat down, but Nick halts in the doorway. Standing off in a corner is Louis with a guy who seems to have invented the effortlessly-cool look, denim jacket and black ripped jeans with tousled hair that makes Nick’s messy bedhead look exactly that: messy. Max has got his arms wrapped around the guy’s neck, their skin tone almost an exact copy, and he seems to be sobbing, fists clenched in a collar and his chest heaving.

It makes his own eyes prick a bit; crying children get him every time.

Before he even realises what he’s doing, he’s put the yoga mat down and is making his way across the room. He doesn’t even know what he could possibly say or do, but there’s a frustrated look on Louis’ face and if there’s anything he could try to make that disappear, he’ll do it. 

It’s absolutely ridiculous how gone he is for someone he’s only met once.

“Hi,” he says as he gets closer. “What’s up, little man?”

Nick didn’t really expect him to, but Max doesn’t reply, just tucks himself closer to the man he’s clinging to. Louis gives him a tired smile, his eyes scanning the room before they land on his son again.

“I’m sorry,” Louis mumbles. “He’s a bit upset that Zayn’s going away for a bit longer than usual.” It comes as no surprise to Nick that a pretty face goes with a pretty name. _Zayn_. The closer he is, the closer the resemblance between Max and the man - _boy,_ really- becomes clear. Same skin, same eyes, same hair. Something inside Nick’s chest snaps, but he ignores it, instead giving Louis a small smile.

“Babe,” Zayn starts and _God_ , even his voice his pretty. “You’ve got to let me go. You’ll see me again real soon, yeah?”

Max shakes his head. “No.”

Louis snorts a little at that and holds his arms out anyway. “Yes. C’mon. Daddy has to go teach in a bit and Zayn has to go drive Liam up to see his mum and dad. No Maxes allowed.”

Quite miracuously, that seems to do the trick. “Leeyum?”

Looking around Zayn’s head hopefully, Max scans the room, a disappointed frown appearing on his face as it becomes obvious that the person he’s looking for isn’t there. Louis lets out a tiny sigh and Nick just wants to wrap him up and cuddle him until he doesn’t look as ragged anymore.

“Liam’s home, babe,” Zayn murmurs to the boy. “Remember? We left him to nap on the couch.”

The frown doesn’t disappear, but Max does lean a bit back. Then, when Louis reaches his arms out again, he wiggles until Zayn lets him go.

“I’ll take him next Sunday after lunch, alright?” Zayn says once Max has settled in Louis’ arms, pecking the other man quickly on the cheek.

“You don’t have to-”

“Lou.”

“Fine,” Louis sighs, and Nick bets that if he wasn’t holding his son, he would’ve thrown his arms up. Dramatics seem to be right up Louis alley.

There’s little fuss from Max once Zayn actually does leave, and it’s only then that Nick realises he’s alone with Louis. The chatter of ten excited little children meeting their friends over the weekend is surrounding them -if he strains his ears he can definitely hear Gidget’s slightly low voice declaring crumpets the best breakfast food- and it stuns him that he doesn’t know how to make the silence between the two of them go away. He does radio, for fuck’s sake. He should be able to take an awkward silence and turn it around.

Instead it’s Louis who speaks up first. “I should go teach, probably.”

Immediately, Max grips Louis vest tightly, shaking his head and babbling something Nick can’t make out. Louis looks torn, his eyes going between the class and back to his son.

Nick’s not even sure why it comes out, but- “I could take him for a little bit. If you want. While you teach, I mean. Max.”

“I can take care of him just fine, thanks,” Louis bites out, eyebrows pulled together, almost glaring at Nick.

It’s kind of cute, in a disgruntled kitten kind of way.

“I’m sure you can. Still alive, isn’t he?” Nick sighs, running a hand through his hair. “He seems a bit clingy, though. I thought he might like looking at some pictures of my dogs while you try to make a bunch of kids do their best Spinning Wheel pose or summat.”

A beat, then, “We’re doing _Cinderella_ this week.”

Nick blinks at him, his chest sort of in a weird confusing knot at the sudden change in Louis’ tone of voice. “That’s what I said, innit?”

“No,” Max mumbles, his face still squished to Louis’ shoulder, but at least he’s looking at Nick now. He gives a small wave. “Sleeping Beauty.”

“You’re right,” Louis says with a soft but relieved voice. “Cinderella doesn’t have a spinning wheel. Just a glass slipper and a lot of animals. Do you want to see some pictures of Mr Nick’s animals?”

Max seems to perk up at that, leaning away from Louis and struggling to get out of his arms. “Animals?” he says, once he’s put down on the floor, staring up at Nick.

“I’ve got two doggies,” Nick says, already pulling his phone out of his joggers. Louis’ got a curious look on this face that Nick can’t really place, but he still waves him off. He’s got this. _Everyone_ loves Pig and Stinky.

“See,” Max demands, tugging on Nick’s bottoms and not even looking as his dad sneaks away to the front of the studio.

“Alright, alright.” He sits down on a leftover yoga mat in the corner, shuffling until Max is basically sitting in his lap, before opening his photo gallery.

“Now, this is when Pig dog got into the Christmas tree the first year I got her…”

*

It’s a quarter past ten on a Saturday morning and Nick is so fucking late, but at least he can blame Harry for that, because the twat forgot he had to pick his daughter up again after her yoga class and had booked studio time instead.

So here Nick is, dressed in last-night's outfit and glasses that are more dirty than they should be, and it’s not like he’s trying to impress someone with his fashion sense but- he’s certainly trying to impress _someone_.

There’s loud laughter as the pushes the door to the yoga studio open, Gidget’s low laugh paired with a high giggle, while a voice that definitely has not been playing the lead role in his dreams for weeks now keeps yelling for the two of them to stop.

“I’m wounded! I surrender! Get off me, you little monkey.”

As Nick steps inside, he’s faced with a scene that he didn’t quite imagine, but also doesn’t surprise him one bit. Louis is lying on the floor, soaked to the bone, with Gidget sitting on his chest and Max on his legs, both sporting the biggest grins.

Nick coughs from the doorway.

Three heads immediately snap up, his goddaughter’s face breaking out in a big grin. She rushes over to him, abandoning Louis and his son on the ground.

“Uncle Nick!” she yells, too loud for the small distance between them. “You’re here!”

Louis has propped himself up on his elbows, and Nick can’t take his eyes off him as his goddaughter clings to his legs. His white vest is stuck to his chest, the fabric gone transparent from what Nick can only assume is water, and it allows him a peek at chest tattoos that he’s never seen before. As a drop of water runs down Louis neck, Nick mouth goes dry. 

“Yeah, I’m here,” he croaks, petting Gidget on her head as he stares at the other man.

“Bit late, innit?” Louis says, eyebrow raised as he catches Nick’s eye and sits upright.

Nick swallows. “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t know I was picking her up until fifteen minutes ago.”

“Hmmm,” Louis hums. “You’re still late, though.”

Nick tries not to stare even as Louis stands up and wipes his face with the bottom on his vest, flashing his stomach as he does so. The skin looks surprisingly soft.

“I’m sorry,” he says, even though he’s not actually sure anymore what he’s apologising for. 

Louis just hums again.

“Uncle Nick,” Gidget speaks up, tugging on the hem of Nick’s shirt. “Can we get some cookies on the way back?”

“Of course,” Nick says, as he finally tears his eyes away from Louis. It’s quite hard.

“Let’s go,” Gidget demands, tugging on his hand. Nick follows her silently, his brain quite mushy after the image of a wet Louis. It isn’t until he’s almost out the door that he remembers to turn around.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, keeping his eyes on Louis’ shoes. “For staying late and watching her, I mean. I’ll make sure she gets picked up on time next time.”

There’s a beat of silence and then- “It’s quite alright. She’s a bit hard to keep entertained, but I love a good water fight, me.”

Nick looks up at that, catching the small smirk on Louis’ face. “You look like you do.”

He could hit himself as soon as he says it, but there’s no way to take that back, so he just watches as Louis raises his eyebrow and looks down at himself. Then, Gidget tugs on Nick's hand again and tries to drag him out of the room. Nick opens his mouth to say something else, _anything_ else, but then Max says something to his dad and the moment is gone.

As he straps Gidget into her car seat, he can’t help thinking that as far as conversations with Louis go, that wasn’t even the worst one.

*

The club they’re at is one of them fancy ones; the bartenders call you ‘sir’, a bottle of the good champagne costs more than Nick’s mortgage and they probably deep clean the floors every night. Even outside the music is still louder than it should be, and Nick sighs as he scuffs his trainers on the asphalt, his arse cold from sitting on the floor for what feels hours now.

He’s already smoked two fags down to the filter and is well on his way with the third one, embracing the sensation of the smoke entering his lungs. Even after all those years of sneaking in smokes whenever he can, it still burns slightly. On his next exhale, he hears the music grow louder, then go slightly muted again, and there’s some light shuffling behind him.

“Grimmy?” Nick hums around the cigarette in his mouth. “You alright?”

Aimee sounds only slightly concerned, so Nick hopes the smile he gives her over his shoulder is slightly convincing. “Just peachy.”

His voice croaks and even breaks on the second syllable. He tries not to wince, but then Aimee is right there next to him, lowering herself down on the pavement and letting her legs stretch out beside his.

“Jesus, Nick. What happened?”

If he’s going to tell anyone, he reckons he might as well tell the one friend who would probably never judge him for anything.

“Sucked off this guy in the loos, didn’t I? Got a shit gag reflex, so when he shoved his cock too far down my throat, I almost got sick all over him. Got him off and then he told me to wank myself off while he called his wife.”

Aimee’s hand squeezes his. “That’s fucked up.”

“Bit, yeah. I did get jizz all over his shoes. I hope he forgets to clean it off.”

She laughs at that that. “Fingers crossed. Why are you sitting outside, though? Daisy managed to get us a booth and George is at that point where he’s so drunk, he’s started writing sonnets about Pixie’s nails. They also have those fancy piña coladas you like here, with the caramelised pineapple.”

Nick would probably commit a serious felony for that drink on any other day, but even alcohol and slightly charred fruit probably wouldn’t dissolve the confusion that’s been just been taking up place in his brain for what feels like weeks now. He thought blowing some stranger would set some things straight (ha!), like maybe it would make him forget Louis’ eyes or the way his vest revealed just the slightest hint of tattoos last week, but all it did was possibly confirm that it is absolutely impossible to bloody forget about Louis.

“What do you-,” Nick says into the silence, stubbing out his cigarette. “What do you think of someone older being with someone younger?”

“How much younger are we talking?” Aimee immediately replies and Nick lets out his breath, squeezing her hand while being mindful of her nails.

“God, I don’t- five years? Six years? I don’t even know.”

“Is he legal?”

Nick splutters at that, giving her a look. “ _Is he legal?_ Who do you think I am? Don’t they teach you maths in the States? It’s not that hard, innit? Twenty-nine minus six does not equal sixteen. Or even eighteen. He’s young but not _that_ young. It's perfectly acceptable, ta.”

The grin on Aimee’s face is lethal, and Nick’s stomach immediately drops when he realises he walked right into that one.

“Oh, babe,” she says, laughter in her voice. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Shut up,” Nick grumbles.

“Wanna tell me about it? Or him?”

It’s an invitation, not an order, and Nick is so, so glad that one of his best friends is always in his corner, no matter what. Even when he somehow manages to develop a crush on a guy he has maybe spoken twenty sentences to so far, most of which involved some sort of bickering or him being snapped at.

His bum is about frozen by now and it’s still a chilly night in March, but Aimee’s arm is warm against his, so they’re probably fine just right where they are.

“He’s Gidget’s yoga teacher,” Nick rushes out. “He’s so bloody young but he’s so bright, Aims. He’s magnetic. Can’t stop looking at him, can I? He makes up all these ridiculous yoga routines and the kids love him and somehow he manages to pull off Adidas tracksuits even though they’d look so fucking stupid on anybody else. And his voice- like, even when he’s snapping at me, it just crawls under my skin.”

He takes a breath, resolutely staring at the road in front of them. “He’s a dad. He’s got a son who is quite obviously his whole world, and he always gets this special kinda smile on his face whenever he talks to him. Not sure if he likes me, because I always end up saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time, me. He still lets me hang out with his son whenever I have to drop Gidget off, though. He let me take him outside of the studio the other week and we chalked stick figures on the pavement because it was finally sunny enough to do so. It’s been three months, Aims. I just can’t get him out of my bloody head.”

When he turns his head, his friend is staring at him with blank face. Before Nick can comment on it, ask for some kind of reply, she throws herself at him.

“Oh my God,” she squeals into his neck. “Ask him out.”

“What?”

“Ask him out, you twat,” she repeats, holding him by the shoulders and looking him right in the eyes. It only makes him a tad uncomfortable. “You’re obviously so fucking gone for him, it’s ridiculous. I don’t know why you didn’t tell me before but I respect your decision not to or whatever, but I never thought I’d see the day where you would develop a fucking crush on someone that was more than a weak infatuation. Ask the boy out, Grimshaw.”

“I might not even see him again.” As far as he knows, Harry will be back in the country within three weeks, and Daisy has been good at keeping her weekends free. He loves that he actually gets to lie in on Saturdays most of the weeks now, but it does come with some downsides.

“I’ll take Daisy out every Saturday morning if I have to,” Aimee snorts. “But honestly, just ask her if you can take the kid to yoga from now on. I doubt she’ll mind once you tell her why.”

Nick grimaces at that. He loves his best friend, but there’s a reason he never tells her about any of his hookups. “I’m not telling Daise. If I do, she’ll have our wedding planned by the end of the week.”

Aimee laughs. “True. Figure out a way though, and ask him out. Then you can have dinner, fuck his brains out, get married, have his babies and live happily ever after like you’ve always wanted because you’re a secret romantic and I can see right through you.”

“Just like that, hu?” Nick says softly as Aimee lays her head on his shoulder.

“Just like that.”

*

Harry is slightly less embarrassing, and a lot easier, to convince than Daisy, Nick only having to say ‘get down and dirty on Saturday morning without the kid there’ once before Harry eagerly says that he thinks that it’s a great idea.

Now that he’s actually ushering Gidget inside, her frog green leggings definitely looking _something_ combined with her pink trainers, he tries to squash the nerves in his stomach. He’s got everything planned down to the t, knows exactly what he wants to say and how to say it, having practiced in the mirror a million times, like an absolute twat. 

However, Louis looking absolutely downtrodden that Saturday was not something he’d considered. Nick almost trips as Gidget tugs herself free while Nick stares at Louis. And keeps staring. 

The usual sparkle in his eyes seems to have disappeared, and instead he’s now spotting dark circles that hint at little to no sleep. He seems happy enough talking to one of the kids, but somehow, Nick can see right through the display. 

Once he’s sure Gidget’s in the right place, he waves at the only dad sitting in on the class before he marches right over to the front of the studio. Max spots him immediately and starts waving from where he's clinging to Louis, his other hand smack on Louis’ cheek.

Nick only has to take one look at the slight wobble of Louis’ mouth when he gives Nick a small smile, before he’s reaching out and prying the boy out of Louis’ arms. 

“Right,” he says, stepping back as Louis reaches for his son. “Go teach your class. Promise I’ll bring the lad back at the end of the class.”

“Excuse me?” Louis bites out, but Nick doesn't cower. 

“You look like shit, full offense,” Nick states, causing Louis to frown. “Would you like a tea or a coffee?”

“I would like my child back,” Louis grits out between his teeth and Nick would totally hand Max back over, if it weren't for the grateful look he swears he can see in Louis eyes. 

“Tough luck. You'll get him back in an hour. You can’t teach with this little monkey clinging to you. I have it on good authority you did _the Jungle Book_ last week.”

“You can't just take him.”

Nick sighs. “Look. I'll bring him back. I promise, Louis. Trust me, alright? You look like you've got a lot going on in that head of yours so I figured the least I could do is take the kid away for a bit so you don't have to worry about him, too.”

Louis snorts at that, but his defensive posture almost melts away. “Like I'm not gonna worry about the two of you getting up to god knows what.”

“We'll be absolute angels,” Nick grins. “Thanks. Now, do you want a cuppa or not?”

There's still a slight hesitation before Louis answers. “White, no sugar.”

“Classic, innit? Partial to a nice green tea myself if I'm honest, but nothing wrong with a builder’s brew. Now, Max, you ready for an adventure?”

The boy nods enthusiastically, his little legs kicking Nick right in the stomach. Something inside Nick is curious to find out what's wrong with Louis, since there obviously is _something_ going on, but they're most definitely not at the ‘pour our hearts out to each other’ stage of their relationship yet, so he'll just wonder in silence. A little mystery. 

Besides, maybe he didn't get to ask Louis on a date this time, but at least hot beverages and maybe a flaky pastry are a step in the right direction. 

*

Rows and rows of colourful record covers are blurring before his eyes, the music around him reduced to static. It's just him in the little record shop off the street, the one with the ‘music is my craic’ sign in fluorescent lightning against the back wall and the smell of vanilla candles in every corner. It's homey and light and it would be super cool, if Nick wasn't freaking the fuck out right now. 

Last week, his fingertips had touched Louis’ as he'd handed him a cheesy croissant and it's been a good couple of decades since the Victorian era, but just the single touch had transformed Nick into a Jane Austin heroïne, blushing cheeks and trembling fingers included. He would have felt ridiculous, if it hadn't been for the fact that Louis had snached his hand back immediately and had stared at Nick with something akin to wonder in his eyes. That, of course, had led to a minor breakdown on the couch that night with Nick’s head in Gillian’s lap, when he’d realised this _thing_ between them might be mutual. Somehow, he hadn’t accounted for the possibility that this might become more than a one-date kind of thing.

So now he's trying to gather courage to go back to the studio, while some bloke stares at him from the till, chin propped up on his hand as he leans on the counter. 

“Mate, you alright? You need some help?”

It shakes Nick out of hyperfocusing and he turns slightly, trying to look as sane as possible. “I'm okay, thanks.”

The guy hums, twirling a pencil in his bleached blonde hair. “Right. Because it's completely normal to stare at a Cher record for five minutes straight.”

“Shut up,” Nick grumbles and then turns red from mortification, but the blonde just lets out a loud laugh. 

“Alright, alright. The suffer in silence type, I geddit.”

Nick sighs, before he turns around to lean against the wooden crates. He's staring at a spot on the beige wall as he speaks. “‘M not suffering. Wanna ask this bloke on date but it's a bit terrifying, innit? Rejection and what not.”

“If you never try, you’ll never know.”

“Yes, thanks for that, Chris Martin.” It gets him a another laugh, and Nick can feel some of the stress leaving his body, just like that. 

“So why’re you here and not out there asking him?”

Nicks rolls his eyes. “‘Cause it's half nine on a Saturday and that would be just creepy. But, no. I don't know, really. It's a bit daunting, I reckon. He's a dad. What if he thinks I'm not good enough? What if his ex thinks I'm not good enough? ‘S all a bit much.”

“I say you go for it,” the boy shrugs. “The ex ain't your business and if he doesn't think you're good enough, he's shite anyway.”

It sounds so simple, and he's starting to realise it actually might be that simple. 

“Right,” Nick mumbles. “Just go for it.”

“Just go for it, mate,” the boy repeats, staring after Nick as he shuffles his way to the exit, taking deep breaths.

“Thank you…”

“Niall.”

“Thank you, Niall. I'll make sure to invite you to the wedding, alright?”

A loud cackle follows him as he exits the shop and Nick grins to himself. He's got this. 

*

“Excuse me?” 

Nick stuffs his hands further in his pocket and tries to hide his face in the collar of his coat. “I asked if you maybe wanted to grab a bite sometime.”

“...as a date.”

“As a date, yes,” Nick sighs. Trust Louis to make this way more difficult than it has to be. So far Nick’s had to repeat himself twice and it's not because he didn't make his intentions clear the first time, the arsehole.

“Alright,” Louis shrugs, but Nick can see the slight pink on top of his cheek, the pleased tilt to his mouth, and Nick feels the relief spread to his toes. 

“Yeah?”

The grin on his face probably looks manic and it seems to terrify Max a bit, who’s looking up at him from the floor with wide eyes, but Nick could honestly give a rat’s arse at this point. _He's got himself a date._

 _“_ Yeah.” Louis’ face has gone all soft and Nick tries to mentally calm down the fluttering in his stomach. 

“Should I- Can I text you?”

Louis is already holding out his hand for Nick’s phone before he’s even managed to finish his sentence, and he hands it over with a grin. He lets his eyes roam over Louis as he types in his digits, trying not to let his eyes rest on the smooth chest or the slightly cocked hip. He definitely does not think about how Louis would look in a nicely fitted suit and a skinny tie. 

As Louis sends off a message to himself, he says, “You better take me some place fancier than Maccy D’s.”

“You own anything but trackies then?”

“Oi,” Louis says. “I'll let you know I clean up dead nice, Nicholas.”

Nick hums. “Somehow, that's not that hard to imagine.”

Louis scoffs but Nick still sees the twinkle of his eyes as he does. 

“Right. I should-”

“Uncle Nick!” Gidget’s voice rings through the studio and Nick winces.

“-go. I should go.”

Louis rolls his eyes and picks Max of the floor. “Go get your demon godchild and text me about this date of yours. I'm free next Tuesday evening.”

Nick nods mutely, waving at Max as he goes, and almost trips over his feet as he turns around. Gidget chatters the whole way back about her friends and the class and what she thinks is the best chocolatey cereal for spring, and Nick tries to keep up with her and add some useful things to the conversation but his mind is stuck on one thing and one thing only.

*

At thirteen, Nick had his first kiss. He’d been at a sleepover and the room had been filled with light snoring when Sadie had rolled over in her sleeping bag and planted her slightly chapped lips firmly on his. He hadn’t even had time to second-guess his technique.

At sixteen, Nick had his first kiss with a boy. One of his brother’s fit mates had been over and somehow Nick had ended up with his back pressed against the fridge, a hand curled in his hair, and a snog that couldn’t have lasted more than twenty seconds.

At eighteen, Nick got fucked for the first time. His whole body had been buzzing with anticipation, adrenaline, and a decent amount alcohol. There was a question, an answer, fingers pressed against naked skin, marks all over the place. Quick and efficient. Twenty-three minutes, and he’d been back at the party.

At nineteen, he’d fucked some stranger for the first time in a caravan at Glastonbury, but that whole weekend is just one hazy blur of memories, if he’s honest.

But then, he also remembers how clammy his hands had been at his first STD test. How he couldn’t stay by Daisy’s side for Gidget’s birth because he kept vomiting with every visible contraction, and had to keep Harry updated from his spot on the loo’s floor. How he’d almost pissed his pants when he got called into the boss’ office and got offered the night-time spot on Radio One. How, a couple months ago, he got called into that same office again and had almost fainted when it was the Breakfast Show this time.

The thing is, Nick doesn’t do _romantic_ nervous. His stomach will be in knots for days about the most random things (his first Freshly Squeezed show, when Puppy had to go to the vets, becoming an uncle, meeting Beyoncé) but he’s never had sleepless nights over a guy. A _crush_. If he wants to snog someone, he goes for it. If a fit bloke comes up to him in a club with some sleazy line and a cute face, he takes them home and fucks them into the mattress without worrying about how maybe he should’ve waxed his pubes or if he maybe should’ve taken Rita up on the offer of her personal trainer. He doesn’t do nervous when it comes to a shag.

Which is why it’s so absurd that his stomach is in knots over a text message that he hasn’t even sent yet. It’s right there on the screen, the ‘ _Hiya, it’s Nick. We still on for Tuesday?’_ but it feels so stupid all typed out like that.

He lets himself fall back on the couch with a groan, and throws his arm over his eyes for some added dramatic effect. Pig immediately blankets his leg, yipping happily as Nick pokes his toes in her tummy, and Stinky takes that as the invite it is, jumping up on Nick stomach. As he tries to squirm his way up, jostling Nick’s arms and licking every inch of skin he can get his tongue on, Nick’s hand slips on his phone. The moment he hears the low ping, he knows exactly what part of the screen his finger slipped onto in his haste to keep hold of his phone and he lets out an even louder groan.

“Thanks, mate,” he mutters, but Stinky just breathes contently against his ear.

It’s not even ten seconds later that he hears a text notification come through and he peaks at it through one eye, his phone at a not-so-careful distance above his face.

_‘cor took you long enough’_

Nick snorts. It’s only been a day, maybe a little over thirty hours since he last saw Louis.

_‘I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you by taking you to dinner. You busy on Tuesday evening?’_

_‘lucky you i seem to be free around six’_

He cringes at the lack of punctuation, vowing to never let Harry see these text messages.

 _‘Is that a question or a demand?’_ He replies, carefully selecting the think-face emoji before pressing send.

The response is not immediate, and Nick dislodges the remote from between the couch cushions. He’s about half an episode of Countryfile in, when his phone chimes.

_‘a question sorry around six??????????’_

Nick rolls his eyes, but can’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning up. This is his punishment for wanting to go on a date with someone probably five-slash-six years his junior; someone who’s an absolute child when texting. Someone who, apparently, has no problems sending Nick three winky-tongue-out emojis in a row, if his next texts are anything to go by.

*

It’s posh.

Which is something Nick should’ve considered when he’d asked for Harry’s help in finding a suitable restaurant, but the button-up the hostess is wearing is fancier than his own, the upholstery of the red chairs looks like it costs more than all the fabric of his couch and chairs put together, and there’s at least seven different kinds of bottled water on the menu. There’s no pricing on the menu opened in front of him either, and if this turns out to be way above his budget for Tuesday-night dinners, then he’ll just start charging Harry an hourly rate every Saturday and just keep Gidget at his for most of the day.

Louis looks slightly uncomfortable seated opposite of him, a faded Joy Division shirt tucked into what looks like a brand-new pair of black jeans. Nick’s already told him he looked stunning when they’d met up, but it probably couldn’t hurt to repeat himself once. Or twice.

“You look- you look gorgeous,” he murmurs as he catches Louis’ eye, and he doesn’t miss how Louis’ neck turns pink immediately. He’s fidgeting with the napkin placed in front of him, his eyes glancing over the menu, but Nick thinks he looks slightly pleased.

“You don’t look too bad either. Well fit,” Louis replies as he closes his menu, and Nick preens a bit. It might have taken him slightly longer than usual to get ready this evening, and his bedroom represents Henry’s studio right before Fashion Week, but he’s quite chuffed with the outfit he chose. Dark grey dress pants, a dark green button up, some cufflinks, and a necklace that he stole off Harry. He even did his hair into that little quiff-thingy that Daisy always says makes him look handsome.

“Thanks.”

There’s a silence and Nick really doesn’t want this to turn awkward, but then Louis clears his throat.

“Anything you’d recommend?” he asks as he nods at Nick’s menu.

To be fair, Nick’d rather be eating at home, maybe a nice spag bol with some ice cream for dessert. But since Louis is a yogi and probably very much into all that ‘treat your body like a temple’-stuff, he figures he could sacrifice his high-carb, high-everything diet and live like the other side for once. Even though he still has no idea what spirulina is, and he’s not sure he actually wants that combined with cashew nut sour cream, smoked carrot and baby cucumbers.

“Haven’t got a clue, to be honest. I usually like the Chef’s Choice. Takes all the decision making right out of your hands.”

Louis looks almost relieved at that and he nods. “Yeah, that sounds alright. That, please.”

It gets right awkward again once their server has left with their order. It’s not like this is Nick’s first date, but it’s the first one that could actually _mean_ something and alright, that’s a bit terrifying. He’s actually sitting here, his feet firmly tucked under his own seat because it’s way too early to accidentally brush them against Louis’ shin, and he’s drawing a blank.

“So.” Louis’ voice snaps him right back to the present. “Calvin Harris. Fame’s gone a bit to his head, innit?”

It’s an acknowledgement of Louis knowing who he his, knowing what he does for a living, which pleases the narcissist part of him that he’s got tucked away not-so-deep inside. He takes it as the opening it is, and starts babbling endlessly about yesterday’s show. Before he knows it, he’s revealing all the Breakfast Show secrets to Louis as their server puts what looks like at least thirty little dishes on their table. There’s some lengthy explanation as to what everything is, accompanied by excessive gesticulation and fancy words that Nick is sure aren’t actual food items. Louis looks about as lost as he is, mindlessly nodding along as they get their wine recommendations. Nick gently nudges his foot against Louis, just because, and it doesn’t make the other man look at him, but he does get a tap back on his toes.

He hides his grin in the palm of his hand as he pretends to pay attention to their apparently ‘carefully selected, fairtrade, organic, and raw chocolates’. He’d still much prefer the pint of ice cream in his freezer for dessert. Maybe some squirty cream as well. The shirt Louis’ is wearing looks stretchy enough, and he’s seen those collarbones beneath vests. It probably wouldn’t take much convincing. Louis looks like he’s up for some well wicked things, so maybe if he just pulled it a little bit down, placed the nozzle right in that little valley of skin-

“Thank you so much, Francis,” Louis interrupts his thoughts, quite loudly, and Nick blinks as he’s brought back to their table. It’s almost like Louis knew exactly where his mind went, because there’s a dangerous gleam to his eyes as he turns back to look at Nick. Nick hopes it stays there for the rest of the evening.

“Yes, thank you,” Nick adds. 

Louis seems to be waiting for him to start eating, his eyes darting over the plates and then back up to meet Nick’s. He’s not quite sure what any of it is. The plate somewhere in the middle-left looks like sushi, but there’s something fungi-like sticking out of it and he’s not sure if he’s brave enough to try that. There two tiny bowls in the centre with something that looks like chicken soup, and he tries not to show his disappointment when he grabs one of the bowls and it’s cold. Anything is better with some carbs, but when he grabs one of the rolls from the little basket, the texture feels all grainy and wrong.

“Think he said that was like a quinoa-polenta mix or summat.”

Clearly, Nick is the only one way out of his comfort zone here. Louis’ voice is level as he points at the bread basket with one hand, while he carefully selects something that looks like spring roll with his other hand.

“Right,” Nick says, clearing his throat. The soup’s thick and gluey as he dips his bread into it. Great. He tries not to grimace as he swallows, but it’s quite possible that he fails. The texture is just…off. When he looks up, Louis is carefully dissecting his spring roll on his plate, humming as he goes.

Nick can’t help but think that he looks positively lovely.

There’s a slight pinkish tint to his cheeks as he nibbles on his food, and Nick probably shouldn’t find it as cute as he does. It reminds him a bit of a little rabbit, the way he eats. Louis’ fringe is soft on his face and there’s that desire to brush it away from his eyes, even though he knows it will do absolutely no good. His posture gives away a bit of his discomfort though, back straighter than it has to be and his fingers nervously tapping on the table whenever he’s not reaching for something. There’s an airiness to his voice as he tells Nick about some stunt he pulled on Liam the other day, and there’s so many questions circling through Nick’s head, the curiosity bubbling in his veins, but he doesn’t voice any of them.

In all honesty, he could just stare and listen to Louis all day.

Which is a bit of a problem, because it seems to dissolve his brain-to-mouth filter with every passing minute. Before he knows it, there’s a lull in the conversation and he mumbles around a square piece of…beetroot?

“God, I’d kill for a chicken nugget.”

Louis stops his fork halfway to his mouth, stares at him, blinks, and then looks way too pleased.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he exclaims, probably a bit too loud for an establishment like this. “I didn’t want to say anything, but this is awful. What is this even?” He waves his fork around with something bright purple attached to it, a smile tugging on this lips. 

Nick looks down at the table, and swallows a couple of times. “You don’t- you’re not liking it?” His voice croaks a bit and he’s not even sure why.

“Don’t tell me you liked whatever what was in that bowl you just had. Looked like fucking come with bits in it.”

He sounds a tad defensive, which is just all kinds of wrong. It’s not his fault that Nick apparently took him to a place he undoubtedly hated. On a date. God, will he ever not completely bollocks up any kind of interaction with Louis? One time has to be the first time, right? Sometime in the future?

“Hey.” A hand slips over his on the table, gently squeezing it. “Talk to me. What’s going on in that enormous head of yours?”

Nick lets out a weak laugh. “I just wanted this to be nice, I guess?”

“It’s nice, innit? I’m having a nice time.”

“Dead nice.” The sarcasm is dripping off his voice. “You obviously don’t feel comfortable, and the food is weird and shit.”

“You said it, not me,” Louis says with a small grin and another squeeze of his hand. It’s nice. Warm. “The company’s good, though.”

“Yeah?” Nick asks, because apparently, he’s someone who needs constant affirmation now.

Louis hums. “I like talking to you. Just not really into all of this, I guess.” He waves his free hand over the spread in front of him with a sheepish smile.

“I thought this was what you’d be into.” Louis raises an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Like avocado and hemp seeds and beet juice and whatever the hell all of this is supposed to be.”

Louis snorts at that, glaring as the old lady at the table next to him raises an eyebrow at him. “Whatever the bloody hell gave you that impression? I’m a simple lad, me. Maccy D’s and Domino’s. Maybe a Nando’s if I’m feeling well posh.”

“You’re a yogi, though. It’s all juice cleanses and vegan coconut protein balls and zen, innit?”

“I teach yoga to five-year olds,” Louis says carefully. “I took an online class to get my qualifications. Mindfulness is important, and I love yoga and teaching kids, but believe me, there’s no avocado on toast in the mornings or wheatgrass shots or anything like that. We’re a turkey bacon sarnie, Coco Pops loving household, we are.”

Oh.

“No avocados?” He gives Louis a little smile, his heart slowing down slightly.

“Pish. Trendiest food of all time, innit?”

Nick wisely keeps his opinion on avocados to himself and makes it look like he nods in agreement. His body’s gone from tense to relaxed again now that the potential for conflict has disappeared. He lets his fork drop as he leans back in his chair.

“How do you feel about coming back to mine and ordering some Pizza Hut?”

There’s a slight hesitation before Louis answers. “Can we get some garlic bread, too?”

“We can get you whatever you want.”

With the lethal grin Louis sends him and him batting his lashes exaggeratedly, Nick knows he’s going to end up with toppings he won’t particularly like and probably more pizza and side dishes than the two of them need. Still, the feeling that he’s gone and fucked this up has disappeared and is instead replaced by an unfamiliar fondness. Talking to Louis has made his emotions go on a dodgy rollercoaster, but with the dangerous gleam in Louis’ eyes and the slight smirk on his face, Nick figures it’s more than worth the emotional distress.

They get the remainder of their dishes packed to-go, something Nick can bring to Daisy for lunch tomorrow, and forty-five minutes later, Nick finds himself on his couch with a large, double cheese, ham, pepperoni, jalopenño pizza, and Louis’ toes pressed into his thigh like it’s no big deal at all.

It probably isn’t, but Nick’s heart is fluttering none the same.

The little moans Louis keeps making with every bite aren’t helping either. He looks completely comfortable on Nick’s couch, with his bare feet and one of his hands scratching Pig between her ears as he eats pizza with his other. 

“I always forget how bloody good ham tastes,” Louis moans between to bites and Nick moves a little bit further away from Louis’ wandering toes. 

“Eat more of it?” Nick picks the jalapeños from his slice with a slight grimace. 

“Can’t. Max is Muslim so we’ve banned all pork from the house. Mostly so I can’t accidentally feed him some and condemn him for all of eternity or whatnot. I only get ham, sausage rolls and proper bacon when I’m by myself.”

Nick watches Louis shrug and he quickly takes a bite of his slice before he can utter something as ridiculous as _I’ll make you bacon every morning if you’d let me._ He doesn’t have a lot of experience when it comes to dating, but he’s pretty sure that’s something better off not said during a first date.

“Where’s the little lad now, anyways?” he asks instead.

Louis rolls his eyes, but it’s with a fondness in his eyes. “With Zayn and Liam. Hopefully watching something appropriate, but I’m afraid all I’m going to be hearing in the morning is how _great_ Captain America is.”

Nick moves the box with the last slice of pizza closer to Louis, giving Pig a disapproving glare as she follows the movement with interest. Louis just pets her between her ears once more as he takes the box. Louis’ bare ankles are just _there_ then, so instead of running off his mouth and asking questions he has no right asking (does Max see Zayn a lot? What happened between him and Louis? How did they manage to stay friends? Does Liam feel threatened by Louis? How does it all work?), he rubs his thumb against the warm skin.

“I don’t blame him,” he says, after maybe waiting a bit too long. “Love me some Chris Evans.”

“Of course you do,” Louis snorts, as he lets himself fall back against the side of the couch. Somehow it moves him further up as well, his feet almost touching Nick’s crotch.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nick squeaks, flicking his fingers against the soles of Louis’ feet.

“Nothing.” Nick can just hear the smirk in Louis’ voice. “Everyone and their mum loves him, don’t they? I’m more of a Robert Downey Jr. man meself. Funny, charismatic, bit full of themselves.”

“Bit older, too.”

Louis raises his eyebrow at that, staring right at Nick. “Suppose that’s a thing I’m into nowadays.”

At that, Nick pinches Louis’ leg, immediately soothing it with his thumb after. “Oi.”

“What?” Louis face looks innocent, but his eyes tell a whole other story. Nick glares at him.

“‘M not old.”

“Significantly older than I am,” Louis reasons, pushing himself in an upright position with a low groan that goes straight to Nick’s dick for some inexplicable reason. He presses his elbows a little bit closer to his groin as Louis moves closer, seating himself right in front of Nick, legs crossed and their knees touching. It’s closer than they’ve been all night and it’s doing weird things to Nick’s heartbeat, which is becoming more of an erratic thumping than a regular, consistent beat.

“Only like, six years,” Nick grumbles.

“Eight.”

Nick blinks at that. “Eight?”

“Eight,” Louis confirms, hesitance written on his face. Nick just wants to put his hands on that face and erase the worry with his thumbs, in soft strokes. When he brings his hands up a bit though, they’re slightly shaking. Not wanting to poke Louis’ eyes out, he lets them rest on Louis’ knees instead, rubbing circles in the fabric of his jeans.

“You’re twenty-one,” is what he says in the end, if only for his own sake. 

Louis hums, carefully resting his own hands on Nick’s knees as well as he keeps looking at him. “Which is of age and legal, I’ll let you know.”

It coaxes a laugh out of Nick. “Right. Nothing to worry about then.”

“Nothing at all,” Louis confirms, giving Nick’s knees a little squeeze. It’s a bit silly, how they’re sat facing each other on the couch, their arms brushing against each other on every exhale, and Louis’ hand squeezing Nick’s knees as Nick’s thumb traces patterns on Louis’. Like they’re about to divulge their deepest secrets to each other, with empty pizza boxes lying on the floor and only Pig’s wheezing and Stinky’s soft growls in the background. He’s close enough to make out the slight stubble on Louis’ upper lip, the little freckles on his cheek, the slight brown tint around his iris before it turns an icy blue. His mouth looks so much smaller than his own, thin lips and a perfect Cupid’s bow, and there’s this itch inside him to press his mouth against them and see if they’re just as soft as they look.

“You’re staring.”

He is. 

“I am.”

His eyes meet Louis’, who just looks back at him with curiosity. Nick doesn’t know if this is okay, if he has to wait another couple of dates before he gives in to his urges or if, maybe, Louis doesn’t want this at all, but then the other man is leaning forward slightly, putting more of his weight on Nick’s knee, and Nick throws caution in the wind and just goes for it. 

He lets go of Louis for a second, only to put his hand on the back of Louis’ neck and carefully tangles his fingers in the soft hair at his nape. Louis lets out a breathy exhale when Nick pulls him forward a bit and then there’s warm lips against his and Louis’ cinnamon scent everywhere. 

Louis knows how to kiss. 

More importantly, he knows how to kiss Nick, specifically. He doesn’t go all pliant when Nick tugs him a little bit closer, but instead he almost turns the kiss into a challenge, his lips firm against Nick’s, teeth on Nick’s bottom lip when he doesn’t let him in quick enough. 

It’s filthy and a bit erratic, and Nick winces when their teeth clash as Louis tilts his head at the same times as Nick tilts his to the right. 

“Shit, soz” Louis mumbles against him and Nick laughs, moving Louis’ fringe out of his eyes as he leans a bit back. Louis’ eyelashes flutter and Nick’s heart does the same.

“You’re lovely.” It just slips out and Nick’s honestly not sure when he turned into this gushing, soft, compliments-giving version of himself. He’s not sure he minds that he did, really. 

“Thank you,” Louis whispers as he presses his lips against Nick’s cheek and he’s just so, so lovely. He moves back after that, sitting back on the couch and his fingers fumbling with the hem of his shirt. As he inhales deeply, he looks straight at Nick. 

“Thank you for tonight, as well. No one’s ever taken me to a place that nice before. It was lovely.”

“The food was terrible,” Nick says confused. 

“I had a good time.” Louis glares at him. 

“Alright, alright,” Nick concedes, throwing his hands up. “Thank you, too. I had a dead nice time.”

Louis grins at him, almost like he’s won a competition Nick didn’t even know he was participating in. It makes him want to tug him closer again, until they’re chest against chest and Nick can just kiss that smug look of his face. Instead, Louis swings his leg over the side of the couch to move further away from Nick. 

“I should probably go. With any luck, I’ll be woken up at half five tomorrow.”

The clock on the wall reads ten past eleven and Nick cringes in sympathy. His own alarm is going off around five as well, and after all this time, it’s still too bloody early.

He clears off the table as Louis ties up his shoes, Stinky having come out of the kitchen to sniff at his laces. Nick resists the urge to wrap Louis’ scarf a little tighter around his neck when he pulls on his coat and instead lets his hands flop uselessly at his side. 

“Don’t wait so long to text me again.”

It’s teasing, but Nick hears it as the request it is. This time, he presses a soft kiss against Louis’ lips as an answer. 

As the door closes behind Louis, Nick lets himself fall against it with a groan, his head thumping against the wood. Pig and Stinky stare at him, curiously, and Nick groans again for good measure. 

“We’re fucked, kids. Absolutely and completely fucked.”

*

It had started off with a rushed ‘ _hi’_ the next morning as Nick was getting ready for work, but a week later, Nick is pretty sure he’ll never have a quiet moment again in his life. Louis supplies him with an ongoing, almost endless, stream of text messages, including updates and evaluations of his performances on the the show every morning, footie scores that Nick has zero interest in but accepts anyway, Max’s latests favourite word, and photos of piles of books and notes as Louis goes through his assignments for his classes, because apparently being a dad isn’t good enough and he’s doing a Masters in Play Therapy as well.

In return, Nick sends him pictures of whatever he’s wearing that morning, selfies from the backseat of the car to work, and in depth descriptions of limp dicks as he watches _Naked Attraction_. Sometimes he even doodles them out for Louis. Just to really get that detail in there.

It feels like his phone is constantly vibrating and Gillian is definitely starting to catch on because she just rolls her eyes at him now whenever Nick spends more time texting Louis than watching _Corrie_ with her, but none of his friends have said anything outright, yet, so Nick just happily stays in his little, comfortable Louis-bubble.

*

Pig and Stinky can’t stop pulling on their lead.

Normally it wouldn’t be such a hassle, but he’s holding Gidget’s hand on the other side and the last thing he wants to do is drag her along with him instead of following her pace. Which is incredibly slow, hence why Pig and Stinky are being so fucking difficult that morning.

“Babes,” Nick pleads as he carefully yanks on their leads. “Just slow down a bit.”

They don’t listen to him, obviously, and Gidget chatters away like nothing is happening even though she’s basically skipping next to him to keep up with them. Her ponytail bounces up and down and Nick prays he got her scrunchy on nice and tight that morning.

“Do you think Daddy wants to do yoga with me next time? We haven’t watched _Tangled_ yet.”

Nick hasn’t either. Louis is organising another parent-child class next week, and Nick has been crossing all his fingers and toes that Harry’s back in the country by then. Or that Daisy’s home just this once.

“I’m sure he’d love to, Gi.”

“I’m going to ask him later.” 

Nick disguises his laugh as a cough. “You do that, love.”

When they get closer to the studio, the sun reflecting brightly on all the shop windows even though it's technically still the arse-crack of dawn on a Saturday, Nick frowns as he sees Louis squatted down next to Max in front of the entrance. He's gesticulating widely and Max keeps shaking his head. They're still a bit off, but Nick can basically see the frustration radiating from Louis.

The tears on Max's face become clear as they move closer, Gidget still happily chattering away and being oblivious to it all, but then Pig tugs on her lead just as Nick is maybe not paying as much attention as he should've been to the dogs, and he accidentally lets go. He curses, apologises to Gidget, who just stares at Pig with a frown on her face -probably for interrupting her story- and takes off after Pig.

Nick cringes when he sees a little boy on the ground with Pig standing above him, slobbering all over his face. There's some high-pitched screeches, hurting his eardrums just a bit.

"I am so sorry," Nick rushes to apologise. "Jesus, Pig. Get off him."

He tugs at her collar but she doesn't give. Nick tugs a bit harder, but then Stinky decides that that's the perfect opportunity for him to join in on the fun, and then Max is covered in two dogs.

"Stinky, stop." Nick pleads, tugging on the other collar as well.

"It's fine. He's fine," Louis murmurs in his ear, suddenly. "Those are happy shrieks, I promise."

Nick's lets go of the collars and the noises become even louder, even Pig now happily barking away between her licks. When he straightens himself and turns around, Louis is standing there with Gidget on his hip. She waves at Nick.

"I'm sorry for...that." He waves in the direction of his dogs. They've let Max sit up, but Stinky has made his way over to his lap and Pig is laying down at his feet, tail going mad as Max clumsily pets the both of them.

"Like I said, it's fine."

Nick's not so sure he'd be fine if his kid suddenly got attacked by two dogs, but he's not a dad, so maybe that's something that you learn at dad classes or summat. _How To Be Okay When The Guy You've Been On One Date With Sets His Dogs Loose On Your Kid._

Nick hums, a bit disbelieving, as he takes Gidget from Louis and puts her back on her own feet. "C'mon, miss. Get inside. I'll be right along, yeah?"

Gidget nods happily, waiting for Nick to open the door for her before she runs in the direction of a girl standing with her mum.

"You alright?"

He doesn't want to pry, but there's still tear tracks on Max's face and even though Louis is smiling now, Nick can practically see the underlying tension in his shoulders.

"Yeah, we're good now. Thanks, actually."

Nick takes a step closer. "What for?"

Louis doesn't reply immediately, so Nick takes another step closer to him, until his chest is pressed against Louis. His hand comes up to tuck some hair behind Louis' ear, but at the last second, he lowers his arm and grabs Louis' hand instead with a slight blush on his cheeks. They haven't really talked about this, about them and the kiss and how Nick hasn't been able to stop thinking about him since that Tuesday. What he'd been about to do was probably three intimacy levels ahead of where they actually are.

"What are you thanking me for? What happened?" Nick asks when it becomes clear that Louis isn't going to answer him.

"I don't..." Louis squeezes Nick's hand. He squeezes back. "Just me being a shit dad, I guess."

Max is babbling on the ground, the dogs patiently listening even though the boy's got his hand curled in Stinky's fur.

"I doubt that's true." Max practically worships the ground Louis walks on. "Sometimes kids just cry, don't they?"

Louis stares up at Nick, his face carefully blank, before he shuffles a little bit closer and tucks his head between Nick’s shoulder and chin, mumbling as he does so. Nick cautiously wraps his arms around the other man.

"He's obsessed with your dogs. Can't stop talking about them, actually. Heard the Pig in the Christmas tree story about twelve times already. When we got here, he asked when he could pet them and I said I was sure that you'd let him sometimes because they were very nice to me when I petted them. Which was just fucking stupid, ‘cos he just started crying and refusing to come along until he'd petted the doggies too. Shit parenting right there."

"Oh." Nick throws a look at Max, who's smiling from ear to ear. "Well, they're here now, aren't they?"

Louis laughs into his neck and it sends shivers down Nick's spine. It's cold when Louis takes a step back again.

“Yeah. So, I don’t know how you knew, but thanks, I guess.”

“I guess,” Nick mocks, pinching Louis’ side.

“Oi, fuck off.”

Louis’ cheeks are red but he can’t hide the pleased look from Nick. With a last squeeze, Nick lets go of him and squats down next to his babies and Max.

“Are they being nice to you?” He asks the boy, who enthusiastically nods his head, babbling something that Nick truly doesn’t understand. It doesn’t matter. “Do you want to come to the park while your Dad teaches?”

He probably should’ve asked Louis first before offering, but when he looks up at Louis, the man rolls his eyes and nods. Max nods as well, scrabbling to get off the floor as quick as he can. Nick watches as Louis’ face goes all soft as Max hugs him around his knees and he quickly looks away. He doesn’t need even more reasons to fancy the pants off Louis.

Gidget doesn’t care one bit when he goes inside to tell her he’s off and that he’ll be back at the end of the class to pick her up, while Max keeps tugging on his pinky finger to get him to move. As he picks the boy up from the ground, he has a flash of regret that there’s not a stroller in sight that he could borrow. The park’s only a block away, just behind the yoga studio, but Nick’s also almost thirty. He’s got his back to think of, too.

“Wanna help me hold their leads?” he asks Max once they get inside, Nick untying the dogs from the lamppost. Max nods happily, one hand grabbing Nick’s shirt tightly as he offers his other hand, palm up. Nick prays that they will actually behave this time as he wraps his own hand over Max’s, grabbing the leads tightly. With a wave through the window at Louis they’re off, and Nick actively tries not to think about how much trust Louis is putting in him, letting him walk off with the most precious thing he’s got.

*

The front door slams shut when Nick’s elbow deep in some chicken mince. There’s sausage skins all over the counter, there’s a weird white spot on his black jeans even though there’s no flour in this recipe at all, and sesame seeds all over the floor because he’d dropped the little sachet the second he’d cut it open.

“I never thought this day would come.”

The grin Harry’s spotting in the doorway is way too big for Nick’s liking, all smug and knowingly. He huffs as he carefully adds a spoonful of honey to his mixture. He didn’t have any of those fancy measurement spoons, so he’s just eyeballing stuff.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nick says through his teeth, even though he definitely knows. They’d both promised to never bring it up again, though.

Harry comes to sit on Nick’s kitchen table, scooting some papers out of the way and taking a sip of Nick’s tea as he does so.

“It’s the spinach and feta filo pie all over again.”

Nick can hear the glee in Harry’s voice clear as day.

“Shut up, we said we’d never bring that up again,” he mumbles as he throws some parsley into the mixture. He didn’t have any fresh, so he hopes dried is alright.

“Don’t remember that, sorry,” Harry says, not sounding sorry at all. Nick throws one of the sausage skins over his shoulder, hoping that it’ll at least land on Harry’s jeans. His hair would be even better, though.

“Oh, gross. Anyway, it’s exactly like that, isn’t it? Who’re you trying to impress? What are you making? It’s not another pie, is it? Not sure you should repeat that, mate. ‘Cause, like, the pie was lovely and all but are you sure this person is actually into dick? Did you check? Not that I like, didn’t appreciate the gesture, it’s nice being wooed, regardless of who’s doing the wooing, and I’m sure your dick is great and all that ‘cause you know what they say about men with big hands, but-”

“Oh my God, shut up. Please.”

It’s a time in his life Nick would very much like to forget and he thought him and Harry had come to an agreement. He might have mixed the chicken mince a bit too much while Harry was talking, purely out of horror, really. It’s looking a bit gloopy.

“Right.” Nick can practically hear the grin in Harry’s voice as he comes to stand next to him. “Shutting my mouth now. Are you gonna tell me what you’re making, though?”

Nick sighs. “Chicken sausage rolls.”

“You don’t even like sausage rolls.”

“No.”

“You only like chicken when it’s still recognisable as a meat.”

“Right.”

Any moment would be a good moment for Harry to stop talking. Nick carefully divides his mixture into four even portions. Harry moves the puff pastry closer to him.

“So…” Harry drawls. “This is exactly like the spinach and feta filo pie.”

“Fine. Yes, it’s exactly like that,” Nick groans, brushing the edges of the pastry with egg. “Except it’s chicken sausage rolls and I’m pretty sure he’s into dick, so can you please… stop and help me close these fuckers because this isn’t working for some reason.”

“There’s too much filling,” Harry offers, slapping Nick’s hand away and taking some of the mince out. Nick lets him, taking a breath as he takes a step back.

“Can I ask if this is for Louis or am I not allowed to talk in general?”

“Harold.”

“So it’s for Louis, then.”

Nick has absolutely no idea why they’re still friends. He should’ve just broken all forms of communication after that disastrous and incredibly embarrassing event that they don’t talk about anymore. It definitely would’ve been better for his sanity. Instead, they just became even closer friends, with Nick being able to read Harry like a book and Harry always knowing what’s going on in Nick’s head, even when Nick isn’t too sure of himself. It’s weird, but nice in a way, and when Harry plasters himself to Nick’s back as he sprinkles some sesame seeds on top of the rolls, he doesn’t shrug him off.

“He’ll love it,” Harry mumbles against Nick’s shirt. “I’m sure he will.”

Nick doesn’t say anything, nothing about how he feels it might be too soon and too big of a gesture, even though they’re just non-pork sausage rolls, for fuck’s sake. Instead, he flicks the kettle on and leans back into Harry. He’ll just worry about Louis and a possible rejection later. After lots and lots of tea and some telly with his best friend first, probably.

*

_‘What’s your address?’_

_‘why’_

_‘To rob you, of course. Why else?’_

_‘109 highbury park pls leave the telly max needs his cbeebies’_

_*_

Kissing Louis is an experience unlike any other. It's easy, raw and needy, but Nick can't complain with the weight of the other man on top of him and a half empty Tupperware container with sausage rolls on the coffee table. His shirt is hanging open and Louis' hands are warm on his chest, exploring in between kisses and Nick is pretty sure he's died and gone _somewhere._

His own hands are gripping Louis' hips tightly beneath his light blue hoodie as he tries not to let his hips buck up, yearning for that friction. Words are stuck in his throat, only coming out as garbled groans as Louis teeth find his earlobe.

"Jesus," Nick whispers, gripping Louis a bit tighter. His fingers must be etched in the other man's skin now, and he moves them a bit lower, fingers sliding underneath the fabric of Louis' trackies. Toying with the waistband of Louis' boxers for a second, he pulls his hands away when he feels him stiffen up above him.

"Okay?" he whispers, pushing Louis up a bit so he can look at him.

"Yeah," Louis replies. His hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up in odd directions from where Nick had combed his fingers through the locks over and over again just a couple of minutes ago. There's a wild look in his eyes and his chest moves in sync with his pants and Nick thinks he's never looked more beautiful. "'s just been awhile."

Nick hums, turning his head to press a kiss to where Louis has his hands pressed to the couch next to Nick's head.

"We can stop right here, if you want," he offers, removing his hands from Louis' arse.

"Don't you dare. Just- lemme do this, okay?"

Louis' mouth is back on his neck, sucking softly as he makes his way down to Nick's nipple. It sends a strum of want through Nick's veins and he gasps when Louis wraps his lips around the little bump and sucks softly.

"Louis..."

They should probably talk about this some more -or, at all-, about how Nick's never done this and had it mean something and how Louis is a dad and there must be expectations, but Nick's pretty sure his brain stopped functioning about six kisses ago, so he keeps mum.

"I want to do this," Louis mumbles warm against Nick's collarbone. A nail catches on Nick's other nipple, and it coaxes a moan out of Nick that echoes loudly through Louis' living room. Louis' mouth moves lower, trailing down Nick's chest as he swirls his tongue through the dark chest hair. It has never been a _thing_ but it makes his dick twitch from the confinement of his skinny jeans.

A gasps escapes his throat as Louis' hand is suddenly on the button of his jeans, tugging it open before slowly lowering the zip. Nick stares as Louis looks up at him from his position in between Nick's leg, cheeks flushed and legs up in the air.

"Can I?" he asks, his hand on Nick's bulge and he couldn't say no even if he wanted to.

Louis is careful as he tugs Nick's jeans down, his briefs following immediately after and he tries not to let his face flush as Louis just...looks. There's fingers in the coarse hair, the soft tugging going straight to his cock, but there's no other movement and Nick has has to close his eyes when he catches the look of pure want on Louis’ face.

"You're fucking hung," is what Louis says eventually, a finger ghosting over the length of him. Nick snorts at that, almost laughing at the awe in Louis' voice and the tension in his body. With his experience, Nick is well aware that he's slightly bigger than the average bloke, but that's all it is. Slightly bigger than average.

He’s not sure how to reply to that, so of course he blurts out, "intimidated, are you?"

Louis carefully flicks him in the balls and Nick pushes himself up on his elbows. "Fuck off, 'm not. 's just...you’re bigger than I expected."

"Love to exceed expectations, me."

Louis' shoulders relax before the other man laughs against his thigh.

"Shut up and let me put my mouth on you," Louis sighs, exasperated, but Nick catches the twinkle in his eyes. Louis throws him one more look from between his legs as he wraps his hand around Nick, and Nick lets himself fall back. Louis’ hand is on his cock and it's dry and somewhat uncomfortable, but _Louis' hand is on his cock._

He grips the cushions below him tight when a tongue flicks against his balls, before it licks a stripe up from Nick's base to the tip. There's no hesitance in Louis' movements, his tongue skillfully swirling patterns on Nick's cock as his hand works him over in a repetitive pattern. Nick's pants are loud in the air and he whines when Louis finally wraps his mouth around his head and sucks softly. His leg spasms and he not-so-gently kicks Louis in his side, accidentally, but Louis doesn't stop his movements and instead increases his pace.

The tight, wet heat of Louis' mouth is incredibly familiar and completely new territory at the same time. It feels like any blowjob does, the right kind of pressure and wetness as Nick tries not to buck up into Louis' mouth or tangle his hand in his hair to pull him down further. What it's doing to him, however, is something on a whole other and new level. It feels less like he's chasing an orgasm with the only goal being getting off and getting another bloke off in return, or like satisfying a craving he didn't know he had until his cock's buried deep inside of someone. With every swirl of Louis' tongue around his most sensitive spots, there's a flutter in the depths of his stomach. With every pull on his balls, the breath catches in Nick's throat. With every soft moan that Louis lets out as he rubs himself off on the couch pillows, Nick realises that he's completely and utterly fucked. After this, he's never going to want anything but this feeling ever again when it comes to sex.

One of his hands makes its way to Louis, gliding over his shoulders and neck before his fingers tangle in the mess at the back of his head. Opening his eyes as he exerts just the slightest amount of pressure, he catches the look of contentment on Louis face before he takes Nick just that little bit deeper.

"Fuck, that's- just like that, love," Nick groans.

Louis' fingers dig into the meaty bit of his thigh but he doesn't pull himself away. Still, Nick releases the grip he has on his hair and instead slowly starts rocking his hips, pushing himself in and out of Louis' mouth in a steady rhythm. One of his hands meets Louis' on his thigh, squeezing his fingers softly as his other hands comes up to swipe his thumb over where Louis' lips meet his cock. As he takes himself in hand, his eyes never stray away from Louis' face, his eyes darker than ever and slightly glassy.

"Your mouth, Jesus..."

The corners of Louis' mouth turn up at that and he winks at Nick as he suckles on the head. Nick's hand is almost a blur, moving fast over himself and it doesn't take him long before he feels that familiar pressure in his stomach.

"I'm gonna- Lou..." He tugs on Louis' hair once, but the other man just takes him in a little bit deeper. Nick's hand bumps against Louis' lips and with four more strokes, he comes in Louis' mouth, legs shaking and chest heaving.

"Fuck, that was..." he trails off once he's caught his breath again, his hands uselessly flopped at his sides. Louis tongue is kitten-licking his head and Nick winces as the sensitivity kicks in, bringing one hand up to gently push Louis off him.

"Yeah?" Louis croaks as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Nick laughs softly. "Yeah."

The pleased smile on Louis face is pressed against the soft skin of Nick's thigh, before he presses himself up until he's face to face with Nick.

"Hi," he whispers, lowering himself down and kissing the corner of Nick's mouth. The distinctive smell of jizz and sweat is all over him and Nick nuzzles that spot between Louis jaw and ear, pressing soft kisses as he goes.

"Hiya.” Louis' hands are tangled up in his hair, soft strokes making him a bit drowsy. With how Louis is pressed against him, it's quite obvious how hard he is, the wet spot of where he'd rutted against the couch cold against Nick's bare skin. Before he falls asleep right there and then, with his cock out and sticky, he moves his hands down Louis' back, over his hoodie until he's got his palms in exactly the same place as when they'd started this whole thing.

His fingers dip beneath Louis’ boxers. “Can I?”

“Please.”

It comes out soft, almost a plea, and Nick ignores the shiver it sends down his spine, moves the images of a begging Louis lying beneath him on a bed to the far corners of his mind.

He's proud of how his hands don't shake as he tugs Louis' trackies and pants down until they're just past his bum. He can't see a thing, but Louis' cheeks are hot as Nick grabs him with two hands and squeezes. He's been wanting to do that for _weeks_ now.

"What do you want?"

Massaging the flesh beneath his palms, his body revels at the little pleased noises that come out of Louis' mouth. There's a zero chance his own cock is going to get hard again, he's well past that age, unfortunately, but his length still twitches at the muffled moan Louis lets out as Nick carefully swipes his finger over his hole.

"God, Nick-" Louis' face is pressed against his neck, one of his hands gripping Nick's shoulder tightly. "Can I- Your mouth, please."

He's rutting against Nick, his cock spreading pre-cum over Nick's stomach. It's obvious that he's trying to be quiet, keeps muffling his moans against Nick's skin. One day, Nick is going to take him apart in some place where he can be as loud as he wants.

"C'me here."

Tugging Louis higher up takes a bit more effort and tangled limbs than anticipated, but it's worth the slight awkwardness once Louis is sat on his chest, staring down at Nick with lust written all over his face and his cock sticking out from under the hem of his hoodie.

Nick grips him around his waist so he can tug Louis a bit closer, before putting an extra pillow behind his head. Sex is great and all, but he'd love to be able to move his head tomorrow as well. Wiggling his head twice, he grins up at Louis.

"Alright?"

Louis nods, mutely.

Nick watches as he takes himself in hand, raising up on his knees a little bit as he moves forward. The tip of his cock presses against Nick's lips and he darts his tongue out, once, twice, to give it a lick, before he slowly takes Louis in. The musky smell is overwhelming but so, so welcome and Nick groans as he closes his eyes and tugs Louis even closer to him.

"Nick," Louis warns, but Nick just shakes his head carefully and keeps his hands and head in place. He can take it. Louis is not the biggest he's ever taken -is actually on the smaller than usual side- but it's still a good mouthful. It makes it easier to flick his tongue around the length, and when he breathes in deep through his nose and closes his lips over the last bit of Louis' base, he gets rewarded by Louis fingers digging tightly into his skull.

Part of him wants to open his eyes and see Louis completely shatter above him. To see him fall apart because of Nick. Because of Nick's mouth and Nick's hand and Nick's _everything_. But there's also that part of him, the part that's winning, that's revels in the darkness and the sounds and how every touch just seems so much more when he can't see what's coming.

"Is it okay if I..."

Nick doesn't have to know the end of that sentence before he carefully nods, his nose pressed against Louis' pubes. A second later, Louis is slowly rocking his hips, his cock sliding in and out of Nick's mouth in a sloppy rhythm. Nick keeps his hands where they are, hot on Louis' arse as he follows the movement. There's an itch to do more, to let them trail to the middle and slip his fingers in the other man one by one, but there will be other times.

He'll make sure of that.

Louis lets out the softest groans as he uses Nick's mouth, his hands carefully cradling Nick's head and keeping him in place. He's never liked it much, the directions and how forced it usually feels, but Louis is attentive. Even when he presses Nick's face flush to his groin, to the fabric of his hoodie, and keeps him there as he comes, warm, bitter spurts hitting the back of Nick's throat in succession, he’s oh so gentle with him.

"Shit, shit, shit," Louis pants as he rocks back and forth a couple more times before he slips his cock out of Nick's mouth.

Nick opens his eyes, blinking a few times. Louis' thumbs brush under his eyes and when Nick looks up at him, his face is soft and gorgeous.

"Was that..." Louis hesitates. "Was that okay? Sorry I didn't warn you before...you know."

"It was more than okay."

Louis still seems hesitant, but he comes easily when Nick tugs him down. It's a bit of struggle, getting Louis to cuddle up to him without pushing Nick off the couch, but once he's got his arms wrapped around the younger man and their trousers back on, Nick sighs contentedly.

"Alright?" he mumbles against Louis' hair. The light coming from the window makes it look almost golden.

"Yeah, of course."

Louis' fingers are tracing patterns in his chest hair. He's got his head tucked under Nick's chin, and it should be uncomfortable, but it just feels...right. Like it's exactly where Louis should be.

He hears a shaky inhale. "Thanks for the sausage rolls."

Nick smiles. "Reckon I might bring you more food if this is your way of thanking me."

Louis finger pokes him in the side. "You know what I mean, idiot."

"Might do, yeah."

"It's so much more than just that," Louis mumbles. Nick thinks it's a good thing they're not actually looking at each other, because this sounds like it's going into feelings territory, and he's always been a bit rubbish at that. He hums as Louis fingers find his.

"I- I haven't really done this before." The admission is quiet. "Dating someone, I mean. Me and Max's other dad...it just happened. We'd known each other for ages and we were best friends and boyfriends and then we became parents and fuck- I loved him, but we never had this. We never had to do the awkward first date and the meeting the friends and meeting the parents and I never had to worry about introducing him to my son, because he was already part of that part of my life, you know?"

Nick squeezes his hand, but stays quiet as he presses his mouth to Louis' temple.

"Then you walked into that stupid class and me son had you wrapped around his finger within seconds. Didn't even have the time to think about if I wanted him to know about you, because you were already there, even before I was. And it's just- it's fucked up, innit? Because it all feels like we're moving so bloody fast, but at the same time it feels like exactly the right speed."

“I don’t think it’s fucked up,” Nick says carefully. “I think we can go at whatever speed we like, whatever we’re comfortable with.”

“You think?”

“I haven’t done this before either.”

Louis head comes up so fast that he almost smashes it straight into Nick’s jaw. He flips himself over on his stomach, propping his head on the arms he’s got crossed on Nick’s chest.

“You what?”

“I haven’t done this before either. This dating thing. So I think that as long as we’re comfortable, we can go however fast we want to.”

The look on Louis’ face can only be described as gleeful and he opens his mouth a couple of times before he shrugs. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Nick peeks at him through his lashes.

“Yeah, alright. We’ll figure this thing out together, then. However fast we want.”

Nick hums in agreement, wrapping his arms around Louis’ back and nuzzling closer. It’s only somewhere around three in the afternoon, but orgasms always make him sleepy like nothing else, and as long as Max stays down for his nap, he figures they could probably sneak one in, too.

*

_‘i cant believe you never told me’_

Nick’s in the middle of picking out veg at Waitrose on a nice and, previously, quiet Saturday when the text comes in.‘ _Tell you what?’_

_‘your goddaughters father is HARRY STYLES’_

It’s amazing how Louis somehow managed to find the caps button on his phone, but still doesn’t know where any punctuation is.

_‘How did you not know? Surely he’s been to class before?’_

_‘he hasnt’_

_‘either you or gidgets mum always drop her off’_

_‘i cant believe you didnt tell me hes the best friend you go on and on about’_

_‘i have to stare at his bum for an hour’_

Nick snorts as he puts his groceries on the band. ‘ _You don’t have to, you know.’_

_‘you havent seen what hes wearing’_

_‘Is it the bright-green leggings that make him look even more like a frog, or the pink flowery ones?’_

The reply doesn’t come immediately, and Nick’s busy putting his stuff away and darting in between his dogs when his phone buzzes.

_‘the very tight pink flowery ones’_

Nick laughs out loud, Stinky curiously looking up at him from the floor. ‘ _Ah. Have fun!’_

_*_

On their second, proper date, Louis takes him to Nando’s. Nick wisely doesn’t say anything about how he doesn’t really like chicken and nods in agreement when Louis orders them a Wing Roulette as a starter. He picks at the bones, talks so much that he doesn’t even have _time to eat_ and eventually, Louis eats most of the wings with a happy smile on his face. Nick orders himself a Fillet Steak as a main later, which makes the younger man frown, but Nick just bumps their feet together under the table and all is well.

He spends most of his afternoons at Louis’ when he gets back from work, entertaining Max with stories and Disney films while Louis writes essays at the kitchen table. It’s proper domestic, and it makes something inside Nick’s belly awaken and stir. He mostly ignores it and dutifully cooks dinner when the bags underneath Louis’ eyes get too pronounced as he frowns over pages and mumbles under his breath.

(Alexa spends a good, solid five minutes laughing when Nick tells her how he’d made proper bangers and mash the other day, and Nick doesn’t give a single flying fuck when she calls Nick a house husband.)

Whenever Max is with Zayn or Liam or with whomever else he stays when Louis just needs a break, Nick spends hours and hours with his hands and mouth all over Louis body, exploring every inch of naked skin and revelling in the sounds Louis lets escape when he doesn’t need to be quiet. They haven’t done more than exchanging handjobs and blowjobs, Louis’ touch still somewhat hesitant as he touches Nick, and he’s trying his hardest not to push the younger man into doing anything he maybe doesn’t want to yet.

Louis cries when Nick hands him tickets to an Arsenal game for their fifth date. He vehemently denies it afterwards. 

In the last week of May, Nick drags Louis out to one of the parties he’s deejaying at and he introduces Louis to a drunk Aimee. They get on like a house on fire, gossiping at the bar like they’re long-lost friends while Nick is busy doing his job. Aimee’s face is full of approval when he joins them at the end of the night, and the laugh-lines around Louis’ eyes are more pronounced than ever.

It’s in that moment Nick realises his life will never be the same again.

*

Having Rita on the show is always more of a broadcasted catch-up and gossip session than a proper interview. In between talking about her latest holiday adventures, that time Eileen caught him snogging the neighbour behind his dad’s shed, and whether Robbie Williams looked fit in his Saturday night outfit or not, they mention her newest single a total of three times and he even remembers to play it. Never let it be said that Nick doesn’t know how to do promo.

His phone buzzes in his pocket when he’s grabbing a coffee to go and it’s a bit of a struggle to open it without spilling hot liquid over his newest trainers.

‘ _you telling the nation how youve got yourself a boyfriend’._ Nick mentally adds a question mark, for his own sanity.

The morning is a bit of a blur, but Nick wouldn’t be surprised if he _did_ let something slip. Keeping his hookups and romantic interests out of the public eye is something he’s very keen on, but it’s getting increasingly hard not to spill the beans about Louis. Especially when all he wants to do is just shout it from the rooftops sometimes how brilliant he is. He’s pretty sure he didn’t mention any names though. No need for Twitter to go completely mad yet. Maybe he should avoid featuring any male friends on his insta stories for the time being, though.

‘ _He’s quite fit. Reckoned the world deserved to know.’_

‘ _fit enough for you to come over and help him study for his exams’_

Nick sighs as he gets into the car that pulls up, giving a cheery hello to Brian the Driver before he lets himself flop into the backseat. He thought his days of uni were long gone, but with Louis getting closer to finishing his first year of his part-time Masters, it’s like he’s been transported straight back to the good old days. Last week, he had spent two evenings pouring over Louis’ revision notes, attempting to make sense of the handwriting as he wrote out flash cards, while Louis’ had been frowning over some Powerpoint presentation. It’s not much like the passionate, steamy nights he’d envisioned when he’d daydreamed about getting in a relationship, but somehow, it’s so much better.

‘ _I’ll be there in fifteen.’_

It only takes him ten minutes, all of them spent chatting to Brian about his granddaughters upcoming ballet recital and checking in with Gelz to see if she can walk Pig and Stinky in a bit, before they pull up Louis’ street. The fluorescent sign of the music store isn’t as clear in the slightly bright June light, but seeing it always makes Nick smile. It’s funny how coincidences (or faith, really) works, with Louis’ flat being above the shop.

He raps out the beat of _We Found Love in a Hopeless Place_ against Louis’ door, because he’s learned from that one time he’d rung the bell and woken up Max who’d just gone down for a nap. He’s not making that mistake again.

“Hi,” Louis grins as he opens the door, a smudge of pink marker on his cheek. Nick kicks his shoes off at the top of the stairs, next to the mountain of trainers under the coat rack.

“Alright?”

Louis kisses him once, twice, and Nick still can’t over the fact that he has to stand on his tippy toes to do so.

“Fucking stressed,” Louis says against his lips. He pulls Nick along to the kitchen, flicking on the kettle as he goes and tugging Nick between his legs as he sits on the kitchen table.

“You’re almost done though, right?”

Nick squeezes Louis’ hips softly, offering a comforting touch.

“Yeah. Just the one written exam on Tuesday and then I should be done for the year.”

Louis rests his head against Nick’s collarbone, a sign Nick has begun to understand as Louis attempting to ask for affection. With a kiss on Louis’ forehead, he coaxes a happy sigh out of the other man.

“Where’s the little lad then?”

It’s a bit early for Max to be down for a nap, Nick reckons, but it’s also suspiciously quiet.

“He’s with Zayn and Liam.” Louis’ voice is slightly muffled by Nick’s shirt. “It’s Eid this weekend, and it’s important and stuff, so we figured it was easier to let him sleep at Zayn’s while they visit a million uncle, aunties and cousins thrice-removed, instead of Zayn having to drive back and forth to pick him up and bring him back.”

Nick hums. The kettle flicks off and he takes a step back to fix them a cuppa. He immediately misses Louis’ warmth.

“You didn’t want to go?”

Louis shrugs. “‘s not really my place. Didn’t fast, so shouldn’t be out there celebrating with their families. It’s a good experience though, I reckon. I don’t have any experience as a Muslim, obviously, and Zayn is not very traditional when it comes to faith, so it’s nice he has family to fill in the missing bits, for when he’s older. Figure out what he wants for himself.”

Nick wonders why they’re so set on raising Max religious, then, when faith doesn’t play a big role in either of their lives, but it’s undeniably something personal and none of his business as the new partner. Boyfriend. Whatever they’re calling this now.

“When is he back then?”

He unearths the sugar bowl from where Louis has hidden it behind three boxes of cereal, because apparently it’s fine when Louis starts his morning off with a sugar rush, but when Nick wants a nice, sweet tea, it’s suddenly unacceptable. 

“Zayn’s dropping him off tomorrow afternoon, I think. They’re going to Max’s grandparents in the morning and then it’s a four-hour drive or summat so I reckon they’ll be here around two.”

As Nick hands him his mug, he smiles gratefully. 

“So we have the whole day to ourselves, then?” Nick adds an eyebrow wiggle for full effect as he blows on the steam.

Louis snorts as he hops off the table. “To study, yeah.”

“Lou…” Nick whines, following Louis into the living room. Almost every inch of the coffee table is covered in paper and highlighters, with a stack of books off on the floor. It looks like Louis has built himself a nest out of blankets and pillows right in front of the couch, with multiple (definitely dirty) mugs surrounding it. He wouldn’t call it a cluttered mess per say, it’s got more of a lived-in vibe than being straight up messy, but it is literally not possible to walk from the kitchen to the couch without stepping on some brightly coloured toys or teddy bears.

Nick’s heard many stories about Louis’ mum and she sounds like an absolute power woman (one he’d love to meet some day), but it’s obvious she never taught her son the basics of decluttering _or_ cleaning.

“Ask me anything from chapter fourteen,” Louis says as he makes himself comfy in his nest. Nick sighs as he lies down on the couch behind Louis, legs scissoring in the air like he’s in some kind of teen movie. He carefully puts his mug on the floor as he takes the textbook Louis hands him, already knowing it’s going to end up going cold. In the past months, Nick’s realised that as much as Louis bickers with him about the amount of hours Nick puts into work, work events and side projects, Louis has just as much ambition running through his veins, if not more. He’s determined to finish his Masters and start up his own counselling practice for kids, which Nick thinks is bloody brilliant, but it also means that Louis allows them zero breaks while revising.

Nick’s been drinking cold tea for a week now.

He quizzes Louis for a good hour and a half, hand tangled in Louis’ hair as he leans into the couch. The way that Louis gives all his answers flawlessly and with confidence causes the pride to bubble in Nick’s stomach. He’s never placed too much emphasis on intelligence -who gives a shit if you’re smart when you’re dead boring- but the ease with which Louis formulates diagnoses from the top of his head is _definitely_ doing it for him.

With a final scratch of Louis’ scalp, Nick closes the book with a soft thud. “I think we’re done.”

“We haven’t even done pre-verbal and verbal communication in development yet,” Louis says with a frown, turning slightly so he’s facing Nick. He’s put on his glasses, a thick black frame that makes him look even younger than he already is, and Nick gently takes them off, bopping Louis’ nose after. Louis scrunches his nose.

“At this point I’m sure you’ll ace whatever exam they throw at you, love.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “You’re just saying that so we can have a snog.”

It had crossed his mind, sure. “Babe, you just corrected me because I read one compound sentence as two separate sentences. Reckon you know this textbook better than the authors at this point.”

The frown on Louis face doesn’t smoothe out completely. “I just wanna do well.”

“And you will. Picked myself a smart boyfriend, didn’t I?”

“That what we’re calling it these days, then?” The twinkle is back in Louis’ eyes and Nick feels very accomplished. He might not be uni smart, but he knows people.

“What, boyfriends? Reckon so, yeah.”

Louis snorts as he turns completely around, face only inches away from where Nick’s got his head propped on his elbow. “You can’t just tell someone you’re suddenly boyfriends, you know.”

“We’ve been dating for ages!” Two months and fifteen days. Not that Nick’s keeping count.

“You can’t just assume, though. You’ve got to ask.” Louis bats his lashes innocently, but Nick sees right through him. He stopped believing in the innocent-and-cute act the minute Louis denied giving Stinky some of his spag bol, even though the pup had been covered in marinara sauce. There’s not a single innocent bone in Louis’ body.

“Really?” Nick groans. Louis nods gleefully. “Fine. I can’t believe you’re making me do this. Do you want to be my boyfriend, you absolute tosser?”

“Ask nicely,” Louis chastens.

“Light of my life, my sweetest angel, I wouldn’t wish you on my worst enemy, but would you do me the honour of becoming my boyfriend?”

Louis’ grin could probably be seen by the astronauts on the International Space Station.

“Bit much, but I guess if you’re this desperate for it, then yeah. Alright.”

Nick gasps in mock offence, hitting Louis softly in the arm with the hand he’s not lying on. Louis just laughs as he gives Nick a peck before he leans back on his arms. It stretches his t-shirt a bit, pulling taut over his chest and stomach, and Nick swallows.

“You mind helping me prep for tomorrow’s yoga class?” Louis asks next, and it’s not really the follow-up Nick expected, but he still nods. At this point, he and Louis both know that he’d probably agree to a lot of things.

Louis beams even wider, the crinkles by his eyes even more pronounced and Nick watches as he gets up, pushes the coffee table and everything on it to the side, and walks into his bedroom.

 _I hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave,_ Nick thinks as his eyes follow Louis. His trackies are pulled tight around his bum, the lines of his boxer clearly visible and it’s not like Louis’ been holding out on him or something (Louis is slowly becoming an expert at sucking Nick’s cock), but he’s tossed off to the image of that arse quite a few times. It’s toned and firm, and Nick would like nothing more than put his mouth and tongue on it and show Louis _exactly_ what it’s doing to Nick. Kiss him all over and get his tongue inside him. He’s a self-proclaimed arse guy and the day Louis will let Nick eat him out, is without any doubt going to be the best day of his life. His cock starts to thicken up just from the thought of it, of having Louis laid out in front of him. Nick’s fingers slowly pushing into him. His tongue licking between two spread out fingers. Louis’ whimpers and how he’ll rut against the mattress. It’s definitely in his top ten fantasies involving the other man.

“Stop thinking about my arse, you perv!” Louis yells from the bedroom. Nick gently palms himself and wills the blood to flow back to his brain. He never claimed to be subtle.

When Louis comes back with his yoga mat, Nick’s seated upright, feet firmly on the floor and hands on his knees.

“You’re not fooling me,” Louis snorts as he rolls out his mat on the floor, beckoning Nick over. “Alright. So the theme is _Winnie the Pooh_ and I have few ideas but I just need to test them out before we end up with broken bones tomorrow. Take your jeans off.”

“What?”

“Take your jeans off. You can’t do yoga in ‘em.”

Nick would bloody well like to try. At Louis raised eyebrow, however, he sighs and pulls them down, until he’s standing in nothing but his Calvin Kleins and his red button up. He tries not to cover anything up, because he knows it’s ridiculous and he really has nothing to worry about here, but he feels uncomfortably exposed and naked like this.

Louis smiles softly at him before he gently pushes Nick to his knees on the mat. It leaves him right at the level of Louis’ crotch and he does his utmost best not to stare but it’s just…right there. There’s not much of a bulge, but Nick’s sure that if he leaned forward only just a little bit, nuzzled the fabric with just the right amount of pressure, he could get Louis tenting in his trackies within a minute. Easily.

“Oh my God, get your mind out of the gutter,” Louis reprimands, shoving Nick’s shoulder without any malicious intent. It’s becoming sort of worrying how easily Louis can read his mind and without Nick even properly looking at him. It should probably freak him out a lot more than it does. It probably would, months ago, when he was still convinced he wasn’t meant for relationships and would forever have to live vicariously through Harry and Daisy and their perfect little family. Now, it’s almost like he’s flipped a switch. Started a new chapter. Now, it just makes him feel warm on the inside whenever Louis catches on to whatever he’s not saying. 

As he said, it’s a bit worrying.

“Why am I on my knees then?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re impossible. Anyway, you know that song he sings in front of the mirror? The _‘when I up, down, touch the ground, it puts me in the mood’_ one?”

Nick blinks. “No.”

He does know that Louis has an amazingly unique singing voice. Airy, different, and _wonderful_. The next time he’s going for a karaoke night with the girls, he’s dragging Louis along.

“Useless, you are. He does some kind of morning exercise, sings a song, it’s all incredibly fascinating to kids. I was thinking of doing that routine but more yoga-based as a warming up. Then I’ll probably put them in pairs, do a little Raindrop pose which is supposed to be Eeyore’s hut, a double down dog that I’ll disguise as a Kanga and Roo in some way.” Nick is very much lost, but he nods in encouragement. “So then I was thinking I wanted to do like a Cat Cow Massage thing, like Rabbit being dramatic on top of Tigger or whatever, but I’m not sure how balanced they need to be to properly execute that? Usually Liam helps me out a bit with the poses but since he’s currently getting stuffed with Maamoul cookies and whatnot, you’ll have to do.”

“Ta, love.”

“No problem,” Louis grins back at him. “Now, get on your hands and knees for me.”

Nick could’ve predicted it, but the pose turns out to be a complete and utter disaster.

“What do you mean, ‘move’?” Nick squeaks at Louis, who’s draped over his back like some damsel in distress. All his weight is on Nick -which is not a whole lot, so it’s fine- but Nick’s having a hard time keeping still, which makes Louis all unbalanced on top of him. And now he has to move.

“You do know how Cat Cow Pose works right?” Louis voice is strained and sure, it’s probably requires a bit of core strength to remain smack in the middle of Nick’s back without rolling off, but really, there’s only one person who has to put in the work here, and it isn’t Louis.

“Of course I do,” Nick grumbles and he butts his head softly into Louis’ on his shoulder. Louis steps on his toes in retaliation.

“So move.”

Nick inhales deeply before he exhales, arching his back as he does so. Louis wobbles a bit on his back, but stays put as Nick inhales again, rounding his back. It takes about five times as much effort as the pose usually does and he’s very mindful of his breathing this time, which is the point, he guesses. He’s also very aware of Louis’ proximity, his hair tickling the side of Nick’s face whenever he so much as moves his head a fraction. He smells the woods and summer all at once and it’s quickly become one of Nick’s favourite scents. That, and Gidgets hair right after a shower. 

He exhales again, maybe a bit sooner than Louis expected, because when Nick draws his belly into his spine and arches his back, Louis rolls right off. He lands face down on the floor with a loud ‘oempf’ and Nick cringes.

“Shit, you alright?” 

Louis turns his head to the side. “‘M fine. We’re obviously not doing that tomorrow, then.”

Nick laughs, moving back so he can sit on his haunches. From there, he has a great view of Louis spread out in front of him.

“Better not, yeah,” he agrees, absentmindedly.

Louis’ shirt has ridden up with his fall, leaving a stretch of bare skin on Louis’ back for Nick to gaze at. His boxers peek out above the waistband of his trackies, and the light dusting of hair above it make Nick very much aware of how little he’s wearing and how he really can’t hide whatever’s happening in his pants. It’s just that he’d very much like to let his finger graze across that spot, let his fingers tickle the fine hairs and send shivers down Louis’ spine. Maybe straddle Louis, let his hands roam all over his back, trace the path with his mouth.

When he lets his eyes wander a bit more up, he catches Louis looking at him with his eyebrows raised.

“Bit of a one-track mind tonight, don’t we?”

Nick shrugs, refusing to be embarrassed. “I like looking at you.”

Louis flushes pink, which is exactly why Nick started speaking his mind more whenever it came to Louis. It seems like nobody is paying the other man enough compliments, and since Nick’s brain to mouth filter is a bit fucked at the best times anyway, he’d made up his mind somewhere in April that he was just going to tell Louis whenever he was feeling incredibly sappy.

“I’m sure you’d like to do a lot more than look,” Louis mumbles, and Nick’s not sure if he was supposed to hear, but he lets his hands travel up Louis’ leg anyway. The limb twitches beneath his touch as Nick inches higher and higher, until he gets to the rounding of Louis arse and squeezes gently. At that, Louis pushes himself up on his arms.

“Right. Bedroom.”

Nick pulls his hand back. “What?”

“Bedroom, c’mon.” Louis jumps up, holding out his hand to tug Nick up. It shakes a bit and the smile on Louis’ face is uncertain, and Nick is just slightly confused.

“Why?” he asks as he gets up with Louis’ help. Before he can take a step back, Louis grabs him by the waist and pulls him in. He stands on his tippy toes as he leans in to whisper in Nick’s ear.

“Because I’m not having sex on the living room floor.”

It’s like Nick’s brain shortcuts at that moment. “Sex?”

Louis cackles as he pulls away, stepping out of Nick’s hold and walking backwards through the open bedroom door. “Keep up, old man. We’re having sex. Now. If you want.”

There’s not a cell in Nick’s body that doesn’t _want._ They’ve been snogging each others faces off the past few weeks and Nick’s close to being just as familiar with Louis’ dick as he is with his own. However, it’s never gone any further than sixty-nineing on Nick’s bed while they had Max down for a nap in the living room. Which is probably exactly _why_ they haven’t done more, because Louis is highly paranoid that Max will wake up while they’re busy and no one wants to have to stop right in the middle of something that is (supposedly) a romantic and intimate moment. Or like, Nick doesn’t want to, anyway.

But now that Max is with Zayn and him and Louis have the whole afternoon and evening for just the two of them…

“I want.”

Louis’ grin almost splits his face, his fingers toying with the hem of his shirt, moving across the soft skin of his belly and pulling the fabric up in one smooth movement. Nick eyes stay on the scar above Louis’ belly button, the spot he loves to suck at and shower in wet kisses. It awakens some primal instinct in him, to know that Louis once grew life in there, which is absolutely ridiculous, because it’s not like he’s ever seen Louis glowing and pregnant. It’s fucking hot, though.

“C’mon. Take your shirt off. ‘s only fair.” 

Nick takes a couple of steps forward, until he’s crowding in Louis’ space, trapping the other man between his body and the edge of the bed. His fingers deftly unbutton his shirt. Louis eyes are on him, almost burning through him as he watches Nick undress and reveal more skin. Once his shirt is off, discarded somewhere on the floor next to half of Louis’ wardrobe, Louis wraps his arms around Nick’s neck and tugs him forward, smashing his lips onto Nick’s.

There’s nothing sweet or hesitant about it. Louis kisses him like he always does, on the side of dirty and desperate, his teeth softly nibbling on Nick’s bottom lip, his tongue following soothingly after. When Nick opens his mouth just a little, Louis is immediately right there, prodding for entrance. A rush of arousal goes straight through Nick as their tongues meet, hot and making his skin tingle, and he moans softly, gripping Louis by the shoulder. Louis presses closer to Nick in reaction, sliding one of Nick’s legs between his and slowly rubbing himself on Nick’s bare thigh.

Nick’s got a better plan, though.

“Bed, c’mon,” he whispers against Louis’ lips. He lets himself grip Louis by the waist, pushing a little until he stumbles backwards and falls unto the bed. Nick’s immediately on him, fingers at the waistband of Louis’ trackies and with a nod from the other man, he tugs them down, revealing Spiderman boxers underneath.

“One word,” Louis breathes, eyes dark and looking like the picture of sin, “and your cock won’t come anywhere near my arse.”

Nick just raises his eyebrow as he tugs the fabric down as well, and then he’s faced with a naked Louis spread out in front of him. Cock hard, chest flushed and looking so, so inviting. He sits back on his haunches in between Louis’ spread legs as he lets his hands trail up Louis’ thighs. They’re soft, and they’re probably Nick’s favourite part about Louis, because they’re so fucking strong as well and he loves to see them tremble beneath his touch.

“Nick,” Louis whines as one of Nick’s nail accidently scratch against his balls.

“Sorry, sorry.” He leans forward and lets his mouth follow the same path his hands just did, sucking gently on the soft flesh beneath his lips. It makes Louis squirm and pant above him. Nick nuzzles that little stretch of skin that connects Louis thigh to his groin, rubbing his nose over it before he softly sinks his teeth in it, and Louis keens.

“Fuck, Nick. Please, just-”

Nick carefully lowers himself on the bed, his face awfully close to Louis’ crotch. The heady scent makes him shiver and he takes a deep breath before he lets a finger ghost over the length of Louis.

Louis groans, his legs twitching. “Touch me properly, you prick.”

Nick hums but doesn’t increase the pressure. Louis’ stubborn and demanding nature, always bickering with Nick over every insignificant little detail, whether he’s right or not, had been a little surprising at the beginning, but now Nick can’t even imagine a relationship in which he isn’t challenged every step of the way. It’s so unlike anything he’s experienced so far, how Louis doesn’t immediately go all putty under his hands, and he fucking loves it.

“Patience,” he whispers, letting his tongue flick against Louis balls. There’s a sharp inhale before Louis relaxes and his body goes lax. His right hand twitches on the bed next to him, and Nick tangles their fingers together with a reassuring squeeze. Louis’ balls are a bit lopsided, the right one slightly bigger than the left one and Nick will never, ever voice it out loud, but he thinks their size probably make Louis cock look even smaller than it already is.

He’s careful as he gently starts sucking on them, stretching the skin a bit as he pulls. He smiles as Louis moans, nosing against the underside of Louis’ cock and he flicks his tongue back and forth a bit. Suddenly, there’s a hand in his hair, tugging a little bit, and Nick lets himself be directed until the tip of Louis’ cock is almost in his nose.

“Alright, alright. Christ, I get the idea,” he mumbles, squeezing Louis’ hand. Louis just pets his head.

He takes Louis in his mouth, straining his neck a bit as he does so, with Louis’ whimpers spurring him one. He can’t really do much in this position, on his stomach and with his arms stretched out in front of him, so he just suckles on the head a bit. He wrinkles his nose a bit at the familiar, bitter flavour

“So good,” Louis whispers.

His hand is still in Nick’s hair, but he’s just holding on now instead of guiding. Nick hums when Louis gently tugs on a strand, swirling his tongue over Louis’ head in response. Louis bucks his hips up at that, trying to get him to take him in any further, but Nick’s neck is already protesting from the position that he’s in, so that is most definitely not going to happen. He pinches Louis’ waist and the other man immediately lets go of him, untangling their hands and letting his thumb rub over Nick’s lip.

“Alright?”

Nick nods, pushing himself on his elbows now that he can use his arms. Now that he can finally look at Louis -more than his cock, he means-, he notices the black, wide pupils and the teeth marks on his lip. He looks fucking sinful and Nick groans into Louis’ stomach.

“Nick?” Louis sounds a bit hesitant. “You alright?”

Nick nods mutely, pressing a kiss to the scar, before he makes his way down. He spends a couple of minutes blowing Louis, taking him down all the way and teasing his balls while Louis mewls above him. Sensing Louis getting close, he lets go with a soft pop and sits back on his heels.

“Lube?” he asks, and Louis waves his hand at the nightstand.

“Second drawer.”

The second drawer turns out to be a straight-up clutter drawer, with a small sewing kit, empty chocolate wrappers, hair bands, and a bottle of lube hidden all the way at the back.

“Your neatness is such a turn on,” Nick says as he rummages through all the stuff, trying to unearth a strip of condoms from beneath a pile of paperclips. Storing condoms with small, pointy objects doesn’t strike Nick as very smart, but what does he know.

“Fuck off,” Louis scoffs, wiggling a little bit closer once Nick has taking his position between Louis’ legs again. His arse is touching Nick’s knees and, with a questioning look, Nick gently raises his legs.

“Hold ‘em there, alright?”

Louis nods, wrapping his arms around his knees and tugging them towards him, exposing himself to Nick. Nick takes a couple of seconds to take it all in, the light scattering of hair between his cheeks, the plumbness of Louis’ arse. He lets a dry finger graze Louis’ hole and the other man’s breath catches.

“Okay?” Nick asks, coating his fingers with lube and pressing one against Louis’ entrance.

“Okay. Just- nervous.”

Nick keeps his finger still and strokes Louis’ thigh with his other hand. “Good nervous?”

Louis lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah. Excited nervous. Just- get on with it, will ya.”

With a light kiss against Louis ankle, Nick presses one finger into him. He goes slow at first, keeping a careful eye on Louis’ facial expression, going slower when he scrunches his face up, until his knuckles graze Louis’ taint. It’s hot and he’s so fucking tight around Nick’s finger, gripping the digit and sucking him in.

“You’re so good for me,” Nick whispers. “Letting me in like that. You’re so good, love.”

Louis lets out a loud whine, bucking his hips a little. Nick shushes him as he slowly pulls his finger out and pushes it back in, starting a steady rhythm. It’s impossible to look away from where his finger disappears into Louis.

By the time he’s worked up to three fingers, Louis is letting out the most obscene noises, and Nick’s briefs are stained with the biggest wet patch ever.

“I need…” Louis whines, hand wrapped around himself and tugging harshly. “In me. Fuck. In me, please.”

Nick swallows. “I- yeah. Okay.”

He slowly removes his fingers from Louis and he feels slightly overwhelmed as he watches the hole flutter around nothing. The hand on Louis’ cock slows down, too.

 _You’re about to have meaningful sex for the first time_ , Nick thinks and he tries to keep his breathing even. _You’re about to have meaningful sex and it’s with the loveliest bloke you’ve ever met and you might somehow, maybe be falling a little bit in love with him and you cannot fuck this up._

Taking another deep breath, he ignores the curious look on Louis face and removes his briefs. He hisses when his hand first makes contact with his hard cock and he gives himself a couple of tugs before he reaches out for the condom with trembling hands.

“Nick? Are _you_ alright?” Louis has propped himself up on his elbows, feet back on the mattress.

Nick nods as he tries to rip open the foil. It doesn’t budge.

“Let me,” Louis says softly, sitting upright and taking the square from Nick’s hand. Nick takes a couple of deep breathes as Louis tears it open and inspects it up close, before he triumphantly pinches the tip and holds it out for Nick to grab. “There you go.”

The ridiculousness of it all breaks some of the tension and Nick chokes out a laugh. “Christ- thanks.”

Louis hums and kisses Nick gently. “‘S alright. Nervous?”

It won’t do any good to lie, so Nick just nods again. It’s not even an excited nervous, just nervous, really. He rolls the condom on and lubes himself up.

“That’s alright,” Louis says. “How do you want me?”

He doesn’t want Louis on his stomach, wants to be able to look at him, and he says so.

“As we were, then.”

Louis goes to lie on his back and Nick shuffles closer, leaning over and kissing Louis deeply before pulling away. “Thanks. Again. You’re so lovely.”

He lifts Louis legs up, folding him in half just a little bit. His fingers graze over his hole once more, dipping in carefully before he pulls them out, and he adds just a little more lube. Then he lines his cock up. It looks so big in comparison to Louis’ small opening and Nick knows he has prepped Louis well enough but somehow he can’t help thinking that _it isn’t going to fit._

With a breath he pushes in. He feels the muscles around him stretch, the heat surrounding him making him want to push in deeper and deeper, but he keeps himself still once he’s bottomed out.

“Christ,” Louis grits out between his teeth. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut and Nick swipes his fringe off his forehead, an apology of some sorts. Louis nuzzles into his hand and presses a kiss to his palm.

“Okay?”

“Hurts a bit,” Louis whispers, causing a pang to go through Nick’s chest. He knows it’s the combination of his size with the fact that Louis hasn’t done this in a while, but he’d really, really hoped it wouldn’t hurt. Not even a bit.

“Want me to pull out? I can blow you instead. Or get you off with me fingers.”

Louis shakes his head. “Nah. Gimme a minute.”

He clenches and unclenches a couple of times and Nick tries his hardest to stay completely still but god- _the heat._ He tries to focus on anything else, like the absolute state of Louis’ bedroom and the little spot on the wall that someone had missed while painting, but it does nothing to distract him from the fact that he’s _inside_ Louis.

“Okay,” Louis says after a minute. “Move.”

“Are you sure? I can wait-”

“Move, Grimshaw.”

There’s nothing to do but listen to Louis, obviously, so Nick slowly pulls back before sliding into Louis again. It takes him a couple of thrusts before he’s found a rhythm, pulling Louis to him whenever he bottoms out. Quite soon, it becomes clear that he won’t last long. Louis is fucking vocal and loud underneath him, encouraging Nick on in almost a steady chatter, with room for a couple of moans that go right to Nick’s cock every once in a while. 

“Touch me,” Louis moans and Nick’s pace falters. “Please. Need your hand on my cock. Please, Nick.”

If he hadn’t been so close to coming already, Nick would’ve flipped them over at that point, letting Louis ride him until he’d come all over Nicks chest with breathy whimpers. Now, however, he just leans in a bit more, kissing Louis dirty and letting his hand travel down to Louis’ stomach. The minute he grabs hold of the other man’s length, Louis keens loudly and Nick almost laughs.

It’s becoming crystal clear why they’ve never done this with Max in the house.

“Close?” Nick asks against Louis neck, letting his teeth scrape over the bite he’d left there earlier. Louis nods, airy “yeah, yeah, yeah”s leaving his lips.

Nick wanks him off quick and probably on the painful side of rough, lube somewhere forgotten on the floor. When Louis’ stomach starts clenching and his arse starts to grip Nick tighter, Nick doubles his efforts and almost slams into the other man, gripping his waist tight with one hand. Louis comes with a silent scream, mouth open and eyes shut, spurting through Nick’s fist and onto his stomach. The sight of Louis coming undone pushes Nick closer to the edge, and with another couple of thrusts, he shoots into the condom, tucking his face in the spot between Louis’ neck and shoulder.

“Christ,” Louis croaks almost a minute later, chest still heaving and one hand gently patting Nick’s back.

Nick snorts, before he gently lifts himself up and pulls out, cringing just a little at Louis’ come in his pubic hair. He kisses Louis cheek.

“Reckon we’re alright at that, then,” he grins as he ties the condom and throws it somewhere in the general direction of the overflowing bin. He flops down next to Louis again, probably rubbing Louis’ jizz all over the covers.

“I’d say more than alright.”

Nick nods happily, letting himself feel the fluttering in his stomach and revel in how positively gorgeous Louis looks post-fuck. He’s glowing -probably from the sweat, but Nick is going to pretend is from a good fuck in general- and there’s a twinkle in his eyes that just screams satisfied and happy. Nick snuggles a little closer.

“I knew you were the cuddling-after-a-shag type,” Louis mumbles into his hair. He still pulls Nick closer, though.

“I’m the cuddle-whenever type.”

Louis hums in agreement. His fingers twitch at Nick’s side before he speaks again. “Wanna stay the weekend?”

“Kay.” He probably has to text Gillian to see if she can take the dogs, but that can wait until after a nap.

With some maneuvering, he tugs the covers out from underneath them and wraps the two of them in it. He’s getting a bit drowsy, his post-orgasm haze creeping up on him, and he presses a lazy kiss to Louis’ shoulder. “Nap?”

“You’re absolutely bloody useless,” Louis laughs. “Fine. We can have a nap. But then we’re making tea ‘cause I’m starving after all that activity.”

Nick doesn’t point out how Louis didn’t do a whole lot more than just lie there and take it. He has a feeling he won’t be able to have nap if he does. Instead, he just nods. Louis’ scent is particularly strong where Nick has his nose pressed to his skin and it’s like it’s another comforting blanket. 

“Like you,” he mumbles, right before the sleep takes over and he passes out on Louis’ shoulder.

* 

Making tea turns into eating takeaway Chinese on the floor because they’re both too lazy to cut anything themselves or to walk to the nearest Asda to pick up a bag of pre-cut vegetables.

He’d texted Gillian about the dogs the minute he’d woken up next to Louis, limbs tangled up and Louis hard, even in sleep. She said it was fine, but Nick knows that he can’t rely on his friends to take care of his babies every time he has something going on, so he vows to take Louis to his place more often.

When Nick looks at Louis over his carton of Beef Lo Mein, his brows are furrowed and his lips pressed together.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, also staring at the phone in Louis’ hands. As far as he knows, he’d been texting Zayn earlier. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with Max or he would’ve had a slightly more panicky Louis on his hands, he reckons, but he’s also not sure he quite likes the look on his face.

It quickly becomes clear why _exactly_ he doesn’t like the look. “Stay for the weekend. Come have lunch with us on Sunday.”

“What?” There might be some noodles hanging out of his mouth, but this is important, alright?

“Please stay the weekend? I have class in the morning but I’ll get back straight after and maybe then we can make some lunch while we wait for Max to get home? Maybe do something fun in the afternoon? You don’t have anything going on, do you?”

“I- no?”

Louis seems to be mostly talking to his phone and Nick doesn’t get confused fast, doesn’t often completely not get what a conversation is about, but he’s quite lost now.

“Alright,” Louis glances up and gives him a quick smile. “So, then, maybe on Sunday you could come to the pub with us for lunch? It’s a thing.”

“Me coming to the pub?” Nick asks, unsure.

“Me and my mates going to the pub.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Zayn is bugging me about meeting you because apparently ‘we are at that point’ and like- you haven’t really met them yet, have you? So maybe it’s time.”

Nick doesn’t necessarily think it’s time, but alright. “Okay?”

“Yeah? You’ll come? It’s Father’s Day too, so it’ll be nice to have you there, I guess. I don’t think Ni and Bressie are coming but it should still be a good time.”

Nick doesn’t really know how Louis expects him to say no to a hopeful face like that, so he just nods, albeit a bit slowly. Father’s Day. Right. Remind him to get Harry something small then and text Daisy to see if she hasn’t forgotten, later.

“It’ll be great,” Louis chirps happily. In his mind, Nick can already see it all going up in smoke, a Father’s Day with two fathers and their new boyfriends, but Louis sounds pretty enthusiastic about it, so he just plasters a smile on his face.

“It’ll be great.”

Louis’ eyes go all squinty as he looks at Nick and this, _this_ , is why he’s willing to put himself through the torture of hanging out with Louis’ ex.

*

When Nick wakes up in the morning, it’s to an empty bed and the sun streaming through the windows. With some soft pats on the mattress, he digs his phone from under Louis’ pillow.

Nine-thirty a.m.

He’d delegated the task of getting Gidget to class on time back to Daisy, now that he doesn’t need it as an excuse to see Louis anymore, so with a satisfied, sleepy sigh, he flops on his stomach and closes his eyes again.

*

It can’t be more than fifteen minutes later when Nick wakes up to a knock at the door. At first, he ignores it -it’s not his flat, after all- but when the next knock goes paired with a ring of the doorbell as well and a muffled yell he thinks might be his name, he tugs the covers off with a sigh. Whoever is at that door, obviously thinks it’s well important that they speak to Nick right now.

He wonders when texting stopped being good enough.

“Coming!” he yells as he grabs one of Louis’ hoodies off the floor and a pair of boxers that look like they’re still relatively clean. It’s all a bit tight, but Harry, Daisy and Gelz have seen him in a lot worse, and he quite likes the way this dark blue hoodie makes his skin look like he came straight from Ibiza. He might just borrow it and never give it back.

To his horror, it’s not either one of his friends standing on the other side of the door, but Zayn.

Who raises his eyebrow as he looks Nick up and down, before he smirks. He’s still stupidly attractive. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Nick croaks out. “Louis isn’t home.”

Zayn huffs and it sounds slightly annoyed. “I know. It’s you opening the door, isn’t it? I texted him and he said you’d be in.”

It’s way too early for this. “I am. In, that is.” He pauses and then, “what for exactly?”

The vibes that ooze out of Zayn are definitely not happy ones, that’s for sure. “We’re dropping Max back off. Louis said it’d be fine if he stayed with you for a bit until he was home.”

It’s quite obvious that Zayn thinks slightly different about that, with what how his eyes are narrowed and basically burning through Nick. Nick swallows, reminds himself that he’s twenty-nine and the adult in this conversation, and smiles at Zayn. He hopes it doesn’t come off as too serial-killer-y.

“Oh! Yeah, I can watch Max for a bit, sure.” He peeks around Zayn. “Where is he?”

Right at that moment, Liam and Max turn around the corner, the boy happily perched on top of Liam’s shoulders. Zayn nods towards them as to say ‘there’ and Nick isn’t really sure what to reply to that, so they wait in silence.

Once the pair reaches them, Nick becomes once again well aware how underdressed he is, as Liam gives him the once over, too.

“Did we wake you up?” he asks, and at least he has the decency to look slightly apologetic.

Nick shrugs, reaching up to tickle Max, who starts squirming against Liam’s head. “Yeah, but it’s alright. Probably should’ve gotten up anyway, or I’ll mess up me whole sleep schedule.”

Liam nods thoughtfully as he lifts Max off his shoulders and transfers him to Nick’s arms.

“Sorry,” Liam mumbles when he’s a bit closer. “His grandma ate something dodgy yesterday and she didn’t really want Max to visit while she was…ill.”

“That’s alright, innit?” Nick smiles at Max.

“Hi,” Max grins toothedly at him, and honestly, it just melts Nick heart. 

“Hiya. Did you have a good time?”

Max nods, snuggling closer to Nick. “ _Walaikum assalam_.”

Nick blinks at the same time as Zayn sighs. “Babe, that’s not-”

“Leave it,” Liam hisses out of the corner of his mouth, putting a big smile on his face as he looks at Max. “Great job!”

“We’re teaching him Arabic, but he hasn’t really gotten the grip of when to use what,” Zayn mumbles, but Nick detects the fond. He knew the other man had a heart, somewhere deep, deep down.

“You’re the smartest kid ever, hu?” Nick says to Max, who nods at him. Zayn drops an overnight bag inside the hallway with a huff and Nick lets the two of them say goodbye as he exchanges smiles with Liam. Tomorrow is going to be awkward as hell, Nick can already tell.

“Now, be good, alright?” Max nods seriously. “Aunt Trisha put some more cookies in your bag, remember to share them, okay?”

“Sharing and caring.”

“Exactly,” Zayn grins, pecking him on the cheek once before he steps back. Thirty seconds later they’re gone and Nick is left standing at the bottom of the stairs, in a pair of boxers that are starting to hurt his balls a bit, and a toddler in his arms.

He groans as he picks up Max’s bag from the floor and starts trodding up the stairs, hoping they don’t fall backwards.

“Did you already make a Father’s Day card?” Max frowns and shakes his head hesitantly. “That’s alright! We can make something, yeah? Grab a different shirt and then I’ll get the paint out.”

Max starts squirming in his arms, obviously wanting to be put down, so Nick sets him down in the living room. The boy immediately takes off to his own room with a bit of a waddle, and Nick lets out a heavy sigh as he turns on the kettle in the kitchen, before he grabs a pair of Louis’ trackies to put on.

He’s busy covering the kitchen table with newspaper when Max returns with a Spiderman shirt clutched in his tiny hands. Nick has a flashback to last night and immediately shakes it off. Not the time. 

“O, Spiderman!” he says cheerfully. He’d hoped for a shirt that a certain little someone wouldn’t cry over if it got covered in paint, but it’s at least better than the proper white button-up shirt he’s wearing now. It’s a bit of a struggle to get Max changed, becauseobviously Louis has got some sort of specific way of doing it and, _obviously_ , Nick hasn’t got a clue what that is. They manage without tears though, which is a win in Nick’s books.

He drops Max in his high chair and moves his own chair a bit closer. “Now. Have you ever made potato stamps?”

Max stares at him, eyes wide. “No.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes!” He claps his hands.

“Alright. Are you ready?” Nick says, putting his serious voice on. It always seemed to work with Gidget. Max nods, enthusiastically.

“What shape do you want?” He grabs a potato from the table, little knife in his other hand, and looks at Max.

“Heart.” Nick waits patiently. “Please.”

Ten minutes and three cuts in his finger later, Nick’s got six potato stamps that are a bit wonky, but made with love. Max has been chatting almost non-stop, telling Nick all about his two days with his nephews and nieces and whoever _Dnya_ might be. Safe to say, he only understands about thirty per cent. There’s moments where Nick is sure he’s slipping into a language that isn’t English and Max gets a bit frustrated when Nick doesn’t get what he’s saying, but he (quite professionally, if he says so himself) defuses the situation by giving the boy one of the cookies from the container in his bag.

“Now. What colour do you want?”

Nick opens a few cartons of paint, the little ones you get with those ‘colour the number’ sets, because they were the only ones he could find in the mess that is Louis’ crafts drawer. Max doesn’t seem to mind as he grabs for the green one. Nick quickly pulls it out of reach.

“Let me, yeah?” Max pouts, but sits back in his chair. “Green? And what stamp?”

“Star.”

There’s a perfectly good yellow for that, but Nick dutifully covers the bottom of the potato in green and carefully gives it to Max, along with a piece of white paper that he’d folded into a card. He’d debated letting the boy make two, one for Louis and one for Zayn, but in the end, his pettiness had won, so one card it is.

“Press as hard as you can.”

Max does exactly what he says, little face scrunching up in concentration, and it’s almost the same face Louis makes when pouring over his text books. It’s fucking adorable.

They cover the whole paper in green stars, blue hearts and pink circles that Max declares are footballs. Nick grabs some glitter from the crafts drawer at the last moment, letting Max sprinkle some (a lot) on. The complete mess that is the kitchen is worth it when Nick sees the proud look on Max’s face as he holds up the card, and Nick ruffles his hair with a slightly clean hand. Getting Max to wash up is a bit more of a challenge, the boy refusing to put his hands under the tap. Nick tries all the tricks in the book, bribing him with more cookies, Peppa Pig, story time, and ice cream later tonight, but in the end he ends up putting Max down for a nap with specks of green, blue and pink all over him.

He’s just wiping the stubborn bits of paint off the high chair when there’s feet thundering up the stairs.

“Nick?” Louis voice rings out, slightly out of breath.

“Here,” he answers, not as loud, because there’s a little boy sleeping and he’d quite like for it to stay that way.

“I am so sorry,” Louis says as he stands in the doorway to the kitchen, knuckles white with how he’s gripping the post. Nick smiles lazily at him, dropping the last potato in the bin before scooping Louis up in a hug.

“It’s alright,” he whispers against the flushed skin. “‘S alright.”

“I only got the text that they were coming back earlier when I was already at the studio and I didn’t really want him to sit by himself for an hour without any of his toys, did I, so I just said the first thing I thought of, but I really should’ve checked with you first, and I’m sor-”

Nick cuts him off. “Hey. It’s alright. We were fine.”

Louis noticeably relaxes in his arms, shoulders dropping low and his arms around Nick’s waist lessening their grip somewhat. “Yeah?”

“‘Of course. I can take care of a kid, me.”

Louis pulls back to look at him, kissing his cheek a second later. “I know you can,” he breathes out, taking a step back. His eyes dart through the kitchen. “What the fuck happened here?”

“Crafts. Obviously.” He waves at the paint on the counter. As he does, some yellow paint on his hand catches his eye. He tries to scratch it off, but it won’t budge.

“Please tell me he’s not covered in it,” Louis pleads, looking at Nick with wide eyes.

Nick grins sheepishly. “Not completely. Didn’t want to wash his hands though.”

“Nick,” Louis groans, hand tugging at his hair before he flicks Nick in his side. Nick gasps at the sting.

“He’s fine!” Nick exclaims. “I put him down for a nap and you might need to buy him a new Spiderman shirt, but I reckoned that was better than a new white button up, really.”

Louis sighs, but kisses Nick notheless, his lips warm against Nick’s. He smells slightly like sweat but with that underlying earthiness that is Louis and Nick inhales deeply as he pecks Louis a last time. Louis whispers his thanks and Nick squeezes his sides gently in reply, insides fluttering like he’s a teenager with a crush all over again. He’d do a whole lot more than watch a kid for an hour to make Louis happy.

*

Upon waking up, Max immediately wants to show Louis the card he made, even though Nick tries telling him that it’s not Father’s Day yet and he has to wait for a bit. Nick spies Louis’ eyes getting all teary as Max hands him his creation with a beam on his face and a soft ‘for you’. The little boy gets buried under kisses from his dad, and when they go to bed at the end of the evening, Iron Man soundlessly playing in the background, Louis makes sure that Nick gets his kisses, too.

*

The conversation in the pub is deafening.

Which is a good thing, probably, Nick reckons, because if it wasn’t, it would’ve been even more noticable how fucking awkward the conversation at their table is. Or, is it still a conversation when the only two people talking are a two-year old and the human equivalent of an overgrown puppy? He’ll have to ask Aimee later. Thing is, Nick’s sitting next to Liam for some reason that is wholly unclear to him, with Zayn and Louis across from them, all chummy and swapping foods off their plates like Liam and Nick aren’t _right there_. At least Max seems more chatty than usual, babbling from his seat on Liam’s lap and completely oblivious that one of his dads seems to be set on staring holes right _through_ Nick.

Even Louis grazing Nick’s shin with his foot every thirty seconds does nothing to quell the fact that Nick has never felt more unwelcome anywhere. Zayn’s barely said two words to him, frowns whenever Nick does speak up, and he’d glared so hard when Nick had tried to grab Louis’ hand on the table top, that he’d quickly pulled it back with a blush on his face.

The only positive thing is that Louis seems well aware of what’s going on, hissing at Zayn under his breath and glaring at the other man when he snorts as Nick gently pulls Max’s plate over to cut up his fancy honey-glazed carrots and roast chicken, because Liam’s got his hands more than full trying to not let Max wiggle off onto the floor.

“Play,” Max demands as he squishes a carrot between two fingers. They’d passed a gigantic ball pit when they’d come in, one that Max had seem more than familiar with. Right now, Nick really wouldn’t mind coming with.

“You gotta eat your veggies first,” Louis says, glancing at the boy’s plate.

“Ni no veggies.”

Louis raises his eyebrows at Nick’s plate, where he’s pushed his seasonal greens to the side because adult or not, he still hates green beans with a passion. Nick shrugs, not sure what Louis wants him to do here. He’ll eat a bean if that makes Max eat his carrots, sure, but he is most definitely not eating all of them.

Before Louis can say anything, Zayn cuts in, voice cold. “They not fancy enough for you, mate? What, missing the truffle oil and the glaze of champagne?”

Nick blinks, Louis elbows Zayn in the side with a hissed ‘shut up’, and Liam glares at Zayn. Max squishes another carrot between his fingers before bringing it to his mouth with a delighted ‘yum!’. Liam cleans his fingers with a napkin, not taking his eyes of Zayn.

He wonders if there’s anything in the boyfriend manual about exes who just seem set to hate you. If so, Nick would really like a copy at this point. Apart from the fact that he was dating his ex-boyfriend, partner, whatever, Nick had never really been able to come up with a reason on why Zayn was being such a twat to him. This, however, is giving him more insight than anything. It’s the same thing some of his old friends would say, a casual remark about Nick’s celebrity status, once he’d actually made something of himself, like the plan had always been. _Too good for a pint now? Bet it’s all thirty quid cocktails and caviar for lunch now, hu? Oh, look at Mr I-got-these-at-Selfridges. Decided H &M was below you?_

Nick clears his throat once the silence has gone on for a bit too long. “I don’t like green beans.”

Zayn snorts. “Figures. You just leave ‘em to the side if you don’t like ‘em, then? Good to know.”

Now Nick’s just confused. It doesn’t sound like they’re still talking about green beans. “Excuse me?”

“Zayn-” Louis warns with a tight voice, but the other man ignores him.

“What I meant,” Zayn says slowly, eyes shooting daggers at Nick, “is that it figures that you’re the love ‘em and leave ‘em type.”

“Zayn, that’s enough!”

“C’mon Max, let’s go play. Wanna play in the pit with me, yeah?” Liam says nervously, eyes darting between Nick and Zayn as he carefully lifts Max up and disappears to the play area. Nick wishes he could follow because he suddenly has an idea what this is all about. He has no clue how they got here via green beans, though. 

He’s well aware that his past has been a bit… adventurous. Falling out of pubs with strangers, snogging a model in a corner at an awards show, _the Sun_ making a small fortune out of his romantic failures each and every single time, and Nick laughing on air about yet another boyfriend that turned out to be a complete twat and left him only slightly brokenhearted.

“Look,” Nick sighs, holding his hands up like _he’s_ the one who’s in the wrong here, and glances at Louis, who seems to be fuming. “I don’t know what you’ve heard or read, mate, but it’s not like that. Not anymore.”

Zayn chuckles at that, high and cold. “Of course it isn’t. ‘s not like you came at exactly the right time when he was most vulnerable and fucking yearning for that bit of comfort, was it? What you’d think? Take him on a couple of dates, fuck him, and then leave him when you inevitably get bored of him? He’s already been through hell and back, might as well give him something else to lie awake over? People don’t change overnight, you know. Once a whore, always a-”

“Zayn!” Louis yells, slamming his fist on the table. “You have no fucking right-”

“Oh, come off it,” Zayn laughs humorously. “We all know he’s just using you. Why else would a man of almost thirty fuck around with-”

“C’mon, we’re leaving,” Louis interrupts, grabbing the diaper bag from the back of the chair. They seemed to have gathered quite the interest, people twisting around in their seats to see what the commotion is all about, but Louis just ignores them.

Nick nods, gliding out of his seat. Zayn’s words keep ringing around in his head. _Once a whore…_

“Lou, c’mon, I’m just trying to protect you,” Zayn says with a frown on his face.

“I don’t need protection,” Louis hisses, knuckles white on the bag’s strap. “Not from him, anyway.”

He feels a bit useless, standing on the side as the two of them glare at each other. Liam comes shuffling back, sensing that it’s safe again for Max to go back to his dad, and Louis immediately reaches for him. 

Nick clears his throat and Liam flinches. “Listen,” he says, looking straight at Zayn. “I know what this looks like, alright? You don’t have to tell me, I hear it enough already. But it’s not like that. I- I quite like him, actually, and I’m definitely planning on sticking around, if he’ll let me.”

Zayn opens his mouth to reply, but with another glare from Louis, he sighs. “Fine. Whatever. But if you break him, I swear I will fucking ruin your life.”

Nick nods, but keeps silent. Message received, loud and clear.

“Are you leaving?” Liam asks quietly, and Louis nods, once. “Oh. We’ll pay, yeah?”

Louis smiles gratefully at the other man and then, for full effect, probably, glares another time at Zayn.

“Say bye,” Louis says softly to his son, sweeping his fringe off his face with what Nick can only describe as pure love.

“Bye bye bye,” Max waves enthusiastically, and it coaxes a grin and a wave out of Zayn. Liam waves back as well, and then Louis leads the two of them over to the stroller. Nick stands by silently as Louis straps Max in. He’s not quite sure what to say. Does Louis think Nick’s gonna leave him, too? He thought he’d made it pretty clear that he was in this for the long-haul, but now he can’t remember if he’s ever said it out loud.

“Stop thinking,” Louis says softly as he bumps his shoulder softly into Nick’s arm.

“I’m just- It’s not like that. You know that right?”

“Of course I do,” Louis huffs, pushing the stroller out onto the pavement. “Zayn’s just- overprotective, I guess. I’m sorry for what he said.”

Nick shrugs. “‘s not like there wasn’t any truth to it.”

_Once a whore…_

“Nick,” Louis starts, but then seems to think better. “It’s whatever. I don’t care. Or I do, maybe, but it’s fine. Point is, you’re here now. With me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he utters. “With you.” He wants to link his fingers with Louis’, but they tried that once before while pushing the stroller and it was an absolute disaster. His fingers twitch at this side.

That evening, once Nick has set his alarm ridiculously early because he’s got a nation to talk to, he presses promises into Louis’ skin and leaves marks with his fingers. He gets the both of them off, and when, he plasters himself against Louis’ back after, Louis doesn’t say anything but just tugs his arms a little tighter, huddles even closer to Nick and lets a happy sigh escape his lips. 

*

On Tuesday, Louis aces his exams -to the surprise of no one but Louis himself-, and in celebration he takes Nick out for a drink while Bressie-from-downstairs watches Max. In a drunken stupor, Nick accepts the obviously forced apology Zayn texts him that night, all in caps and with too many emojis.

They never mention it again.

*

A text from an unknown number comes in as Nick queues up the required songs for the next hour, Fiona glaring at him as he apparently not-so-surreptitiously slides it closer to him. Two more texts follow.

_‘hi nick, i’m a mate of Louis. Know you’re probably busy with work rn, but any chance you could come over later? Louis is feeling a bit off and think he’d appreciate having someone over.’_

_‘Would do it meself, but got some things I can’t cancel. Zayn, liam, bressie and his mum are all busy.’_

_‘Please?’_

Nick snorts, messaging back a ‘ _Sure, can be there around 2. That work???’_ when Fiona goes outside to have a laugh with Tina over _something_ that Nick is pretty sure he doesn’t want to know about. He still doesn’t really have a clue who exactly this ‘mate’ is but if he’s currently looking after Louis, he can’t be all that bad. He’s seen Louis after he’d stubbed his toe on one of Nick’s new (quite bulky, but pretty) side tables; it’s amazing he hasn’t won an Oscar yet.

He texts Louis as well, but even after he sits through a whole meeting with big boss Ben droning on about listening figures and holiday requests and how everyone needs to label their damn stuff when putting it in the fridge, there’s still no reply. Which is slightly worrying, but alright. He makes his way out of the building as quick as he can, waving at the new woman at the front desk, before he ducks into the car waiting for him.

Traffic is awful even though it’s the middle of the day, and by the time they pull up to Louis’ street, he’s slightly on edge and definitely worried because Louis still hasn’t replied. With a quick thanks to the driver, he makes his way to Louis’ door and immediately rings the bell. Three seconds later he remembers that there might be a little boy napping and he cringes inwardly.

It is, however, not Louis who opens the door, but a vaguely familiar looking bloke with bright blonde hair (obviously from a bottle, Nick can tell from a mile off) and eyes that go comically big when he sees Nick.

“Jesus Christ on a stick, Nick Grimshaw?” The man turns around, screaming up the stairs. “Your Nick is Nick Grimshaw? You’re dicking Nick Grimshaw? _The_ Nick Grimshaw?”

Nick doesn’t think he’s ever heard his name being said that many times before, with that many different inflexions.

“Actually,” he starts, but then Niall, friend of Louis and _definitely_ the bloke Nick had freaked out in front of all those weeks ago in the the record shop below, interrupts him.

“I don’t want to know who does the actual dicking, mate.”

Which is fair enough. Nick himself has trouble putting petite, scrawny Niall together with tall, might-as-well-be-a-bear Bressie from downstairs. He sometimes zones a bit out when Louis tells him things about his friends, but he’s pretty sure that he once said that Bressie was dating one of Louis’ friends, but Nick had never actually made the connection that that particular friend might work downstairs as well. In his defense, he’s a bit slow after magnificent mutual orgasms.

“He’s all yours now,” Niall says with a little flourish, inviting Nick him. “Good luck.”

“You’re leaving?” Nick asks, confused.

“Oh, yeah. The gems, man.” That’s all the explanation Nick gets, before Niall breezes out the door with a yelled “I still expect that invite for the wedding!” and leaves Nick standing in the hallway, confused.

He kicks his trainers off before he softly pads up the stairs, the sight that he meets in the living room almost making him coo out loud. Louis is curled up on the couch under a blanket, looking every bit as pathetic as Nick had imagined he would look, with the ground littered with tissues and his arm curled around a soft-looking stuffed Pascal that Nick _knows_ is Max’s. The boy in question is sitting on the floor next to Louis’ head, his eyes going from the iPad in front of him to the telly that’s on mute every couple of seconds, and Nick stands in the door to take it all in for a moment.

The room is stuffy and when Nick glances to his left, he can see the whole sink piled up with dishes. He doesn’t know how long Louis has been on that couch, but it’s definitely been a while, if he had to go by the state of the apartment.

He wonders why Louis hasn’t called him.

“Ni!” Max squeals as he spots Nick, dropping his device on the floor and running over. Nick catches him mid-run and throws him in the air, the boy laughing loudly as he kicks his legs. When Nick looks over, Louis is watching them with a tired-looking smile.

“Alright?” Nick asks as carefully sits down in the empty spot where Louis’ has his legs pulled up. Max climbs unto his lap.

“I feel like death,” Louis groans, his voice rough. He coughs and looks at Nick with watery eyes. It would make Nick laugh under normal circumstances, but now it just makes Louis look downright miserable.

“Oh babe.” He rubs Louis’ ankle through the blanket. “What’s wrong then? A cold?”

“Worse,” Louis sighs, quite dramatically. “The flu. Death. This has nothing on the plague.”

Nick glances at the boy in his lap. “Should Max even be here, then? Won’t he get ill, too?”

Louis shakes his head, pulling the blanket a bit further under his chin. “No. He had that flu two weeks ago, remember? He should be fine, I reckon.”

Ah, yes. Nick definitely remembers now. He’s pretty sure he only slept for three hours in total as Max had cried his way through it, demanding cuddles and attention continuously for two and a half days. After that, Nick definitely gained even more respect for parents. Watching a child be ill is _hard_.

“Why didn’t you call me? Would’ve made you a nice chicken soup and whatnot if you’d just told me.”

Louis reply comes out as a mumble. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

Which is quite ridiculous, because Nick is pretty sure Louis could call him up at three a.m. and demand he come over _immediately_ and he wouldn’t think it a bother.

“Love…” he starts, looking at Louis as the man’s eyes peek out just above the blanket. “You’re never a bother. You know that, right? And I wouldn’t mind taking care of you for a bit.”

Louis nods, but doesn’t say anything else. Then, he sniffles a bit and starts coughing, loudly.

“Right,” Nick says, standing up and carefully depositing Max on the sofa next to his dad. “We’re taking a shower and then we’re going back to mine, because just the state of this place is stressing me out and there’s no way you’re gonna get better in this.”

“It’s not that bad,” Louis protests weakly and Nick just raises his eyebrows at him. “Alright, fine, it’s a bit messy but honestly, it’s only because Max doesn’t clean up after himself.”

Max looks at his dad, confused. “I clean.”

“The cleanest,” Nick agrees, poking the boy in his tummy before he holds out his hands to pull Louis off the couch. He goes with a soft groan, his bones creaking a bit. Nick winces in sympathy.

“Can he entertain himself for a bit?” Nick whispers against Louis’ ear as he pulls the man closer. “I was serious about that shower. It’ll do you good.”

“He- yeah. Probably. I’ll bring him to his room? If I can walk, that is.”

Nick rolls his eyes, stepping back. “I’ll get the shower started.”

Louis watches him go with a dazed look, but Nick sees him grab Max’s hand before he enters the hallway and flicks on the light switch in the bathroom. It’s every bit as cluttered as everything in Louis’ place is, hair products and toothbrushes and toothpaste littering on the sink, and the floor covered with bath toys, even though Louis most definitely does not have a bath tub. He quickly puts some things away, wipes the mirror with a dirty towel and stuffs a pile of what Nick assumes to be laundry in the washing machine. Then, he gets undressed, puts two towels out and flicks the shower on.

By the time Louis enters the bathroom, Nick feels a tad weird just standing there with everything just out, but Louis smiles softly at him, wiping his nose on his sweater.

“He’s playing with his cars but I told him to get us if he needs us,” he says softly, stepping right into Nick’s arms.

Nick hums in his ear. “Good.” He lets his hands rub over Louis’ back, a soft caress as the room slowly starts to fill with steam. Louis shivers against him, pressing his nose to Nick’s naked shoulder. Carefully letting his hands trail from Louis’ back to his hips, to his waist, Nick takes a tiny step back.

“No, don’t go,” Louis whines, grabbing Nick by the waist. “Love me. This might be the last time you’ll get to hold me like this.”

Nick huffs out a laugh, pressing his lips softly against Louis -definitely not thinking about the germs, absolutely not. Louis relaxes into the kiss, but starts whining again when Nick shucks him out of his clothes. He takes his time, leaving kisses along Louis’ body with every item of clothing he removes, but Louis pouts his way through it.

Once Louis is naked, Nick softly nudges him under the hot water.

“Want it hot or cold?” His voice is slightly loud in their silence.

“Cold, please. I’m fucking burning,” Louis mumbles, wrapping his hands around himself as he moves his head forward to catch the spray.

Nick cringes but turns the thermostat down, waiting for the water to cool slightly before he steps in as well, tugging the shower curtain closed behind him. He wraps his arms around Louis from behind.

They stand there for a good solid five minutes before Nick even has the slight desire to move. It’s nice how they don’t always have to speak, but can just take comfort in each other’s presence like this. Over the sound of the water hitting the shower floor, he can hear Max’s soft babbles from the other room, and it makes him smile, knowing that _this_ could possibly be his future.

Not that Louis is going to be alive for that, if he’s to believe the other man.

“I swear there’s not a single muscle in my body that doesn’t hurt,” Louis mutters as he reaches out for his bottle of shampoo.

“Do you want me to wash it for you?” Nick asks softly, his mouth right against Louis’ ear, and he can feel the other man shivering against him before he nods. He carefully lathers Louis’ hair with the shampoo whose scent is now all too familiar to Nick, and he gently massages Louis skull, grinning as the man goes almost pliant under his hands, groaning when Nick digs his fingers in a little bit deeper. He whimpers as Nick stops touching him and instead directs him under the spray to rinse the shampoo out.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Louis groans once Nick tells him all the suds are gone, his head falling against Nick’s shoulder. Nick wraps an arm around the man’s torso, pulling him a bit closer and then taking a step forward. His own arse has been out in the cold for however long they’ve been in here now, and he just wants to warm it up a bit before they have to get out. By moving, he presses his groin against Louis’ arse, but somehow, his dick seems to realise this is not the moment. Nick sighs contentedly.

Toweling Louis off seems to be a bit more challenging, with Louis complaining Nick is too rough with him even though Nick swears he’s never been more careful.

“Come back to mine?” Nick asks as he tugs Louis’ sweater over the man’s head. Louis stares at him for a second, before he nods.

“Alright.”

Louis goes to collect Max while Nick quickly gets dressed as well and starts packing Louis’ toiletries. He doesn’t want to deal with Louis bitching tonight about Nick not having the right toothpaste. It’s happened before.

The ride home is quiet, Louis having fallen asleep in the passenger seat as soon as they’d left Nick’s street, and Max just stares out of the window. It’s still a bit unnerving to Nick, how quiet the boy sometimes goes. He’s used to Gidget, the life of the party at _any_ time of the day, constantly chatting and asking for opinions and being quite vocal about her own. Somehow the fact that Max can just sit for an hour with a picture book baffles him a bit.

The boy is a lot more vocal when they get to Nick’s, immediately calling out a loud “doggies!” as he spots Pig and Stinky rushing towards them. As usual, he topples over the minute Pig pushes her snout into his stomach, but he just giggles as he falls on his bum, patting her on the head and holding his other hand out for Stinky to sniff.

Nick catches Louis looking down at him with fondness, and he pecks the other man on his cheek. “Go have a lie down. Me and the little lad will fix some early tea and then we can all cuddle up in bed after and have some proper sleep.”

“Noodles, please?” Louis asks as he shuffles in the direction of Nick’s bedroom, Pig trotting behind him.

If he knew it would help, Nick would protest that Louis obviously needs some vitamins right now, but he knows a lost cause when he sees one. Instead, he turns to Max and says seriously, “do you want to help me make dinner?”

The boy nods, eyes wide, and clasps Nick hand when he holds it out, following him into the kitchen. Nick sets him on the counter.

“Now,” he says as he grabs two packets of ramen noodles out of the cupboard. “You have a very important job, alright? I need you to make sure that the everything gets into the bowl.”

Max takes his job quite seriously, shaking the open packages a couple of times into the plastic bowl Nick gives him before the throws the empty ones on the counter.

“Done.”

“Great. Now we have to put them in hot water so they can cook, so be very careful, alright?” He moves the bowl to the other side of the cooker, just to be sure. “What kind of bread do you want?”

“White,” Max immediately replies and Nick doesn’t even know why he asked. As if a child of Louis would ask for the nice, organic multigrain bread Nick got the other day. Nick dutifully cuts off a couple of slices from the white loaf and puts them on three plates. He gives the noodles a good stir, considers them done, and drains them as he hands Max the opened flavour packages.

“Give those a good shake as well.” About eighty percent of the spices make it into the bowl, but it’s good enough. He lets Max stir it all in, the boy looking delighted with his task. Then, Nick transfers it all to the bread, slapping another slice on top. He cuts the smallest one into little pieces. All the filling immediately comes spilling out, looking more like cut up noodles with bits of bread on top, but Max still grins widely as Nick hands him the plate once he’s safely on the floor again.

Stinky starts yapping at his feet, but Max doesn’t spare him a glance.

“Let’s go eat this in bed with your dad, alright?” Nick says, gently steering the boy in the right direction with a hand between his shoulder blades. Max walks carefully with his plastic plate held out in front of him, going so slowly that Nick’s pretty sure their food will be cold once they actually get to Louis. 

If they don’t trip over Stinky first, that is.

The smile on Louis’ face when Max tells him he helped is worth cold noodles and soggy bread, though.

“My little chef,” Louis says proudly, ruffling Max’s hair as the boy crawls up to him, plate abandoned at the foot of the bed. Nick hands it to him once he’s properly tucked into Louis’ side. He takes the man’s other side, handing him one of the plates.

“Pot noodle sandwich, specially made for the best dad by the best chef in all of England.”

“And Ir’land!” Max pipes up. Nick laughs.

“And Ireland.”

The bread has indeed gone soggy and Louis looks one step away from falling asleep while chewing, but it’s still one of the best meals Nick’s had in awhile. Max keeps squishing his noodles with his fingers with loud giggles, offering some bites to Louis, who pretends they’re even yummier than his own, and Nick just watches the two of them. He doesn’t feel like an outsider. It feels like a privilege to even watch this, the two of them so open with their affection and letting Nick be _included_.

When Louis falls asleep later, Max squeezed in between the two of them, Nick kisses both of their foreheads softly and feels so incredibly grateful that he falls asleep with his heart full and Max’s hand wrapped around his thumb.

*

“Is this alright?”

Nick looks up from where he’s been entertaining Max with Duplo for the past hour while Louis was out for a quick drinks with some of his old classmates. He takes in the skin-tight dark jeans and nervous hands smoothing out non-existent wrinkles on the blue button-up. He whistles.

“You do know this is just a regular Friday night dinner and not a fancy do at the Palace?”

Louis’ cheek turn pink. “Shut up. Does it look alright?”

More than alright, really. It’s a rare occurence to see Louis’ out of his trackies. Nick had almost forgotten how good his bum looked in jeans. The fabric stretches over his curves and thighs just right; they basically look like they’ve been painted on. It would be an absolute pleasure to strip him out of those jeans later on.

“It’ll do,” he sighs and then winces when Max tries to put two Duplo bricks together with Nick’s fingers in the middle. “Babe, careful, alright?”

“I hate you,” Louis mumbles as he flops down on the floor next to them. He tickles Max’s side until the boy crawls into his lap and snuggles him close. “We don’t like Nick anymore, okay, little lad? He’s a meanie.”

Max frowns at that, looking from his dad to Nick. “Nick no mean,” he says, sounding terribly unsure.

Louis sighs, sounding put out. “Fine. We’ll like him, I guess. If we have to.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s not what you said when I had my hand on your D-I-C-K the other night.”

Louis gasps loudly at that, instantly covering Max’s ears, who giggles at the movement. “Nicholas!”

“He can’t spell yet,” Nick snorts, collecting all the Duplo bricks and putting them back in their box, instead of letting them lie around like Louis seems very fond of doing. They might not be LEGOs, but they are probably just as lethal. “He barely knows his ABCs.”

Louis pulls a face, before shrugging. “True. Alright, I’m gonna get him dressed and then we’ll be ready to go, yeah?”

Nick doesn’t point out how they’re already about ten minutes late, with how Louis’ had run late and Max had refused to get dressed by Nick. “Sounds good.”

Half an hour later, they arrive at Harry and Daisy’s not-so-little pad in Stoke Newington. Turns out, it hadn’t been just Nick who Max had refused to get dressed by, but just a refusal in general, so instead of the nice green shirt that Louis had bought especially for the occasion, the boy was wearing his favourite Superman T-shirt and blue pants. Nick had tried telling Louis that it was fine and reminded him about some of the things Gidget had been spotted wearing in public, but the other man had just huffed and had at least tried to coax his son into wearing his posh black waistcoat, which took them another seven minutes.

Standing in front of the gate, holding hands with Louis, his little coat almost coming down to his ankles, Max looks downright adorable. Nick has to muster all of his strength to not take his phone out his pocket and show the world exactly _how_ cute his boyfriend’s son is. It’s still a bit private, this thing with Louis, out of the public eye. It’s not that he doesn’t want to show Louis off -he’d dedicate a whole segment on the show to Louis’ eyes if he could- but it’s just easier like this. No nasty tweets, no vile _Daily Mail_ articles written about how he’s a predator and dirty and old, no people calling in with inappropriate questions. Louis doesn’t seem to be pushing it either and stays well out of shot of any insta stories Nick posts. It works, and Nick reckons that if that means he won’t be posting any pictures of Max any time soon, he’ll most definitely take it.

 _I’m so glad I met you,_ Nick thinks. _I’m so glad I met you and you let me in_.

Daisy is as lovely as ever when she lets them in, Gidget already pulling on Max’s hand to take him to her bedroom and show him ‘all of her cool dolls’. Max follows her without protest. Then, with a thunder of feet coming down the stairs, Harry stumbles into the hallway, shirt half unbuttoned and with one of the biggest grins Nick has ever seen on him. There’s that split second of starstruckness on Louis’ face when Harry eagerly shakes his hand, but it’s gone as fast as it had appeared, and Nick lets out a sigh of relief. He really doesn’t know what he’d have done if Louis had had stars in his eyes for the rest of the evening.

“I hope you like lasagna,” Daisy says to Louis as she guides him to the dining room, pink skirt swishing against both their legs. Nick follows behind, resolutely ignoring the eyebrow wiggle Harry’s got going on. “I made it with beef because Nick mentioned Max not eating pork?”

“I- yes. Thank you.” He throws a look over his shoulder that makes Nick’s insides burn a little and Harry giggles next to him.

By the end of the evening, Nick once again regrets having Louis meeting his friends. He’s already shared twelve inside jokes with Harry, _even though they’ve only just properly met_ , and he hasn’t stopped talking to Daisy all evening about the benefits of mindfulness in children of all ages and how his mate is writing this new kids book all about it and how he can definitely hook her up with one.

He literally says, “I can hook you up with one, gimme your number and I’ll text you when I’ve got me hands on them, alright?”, like he didn’t just decide to swap numbers with a Vogue cover model. Nick would almost be proud, if he wasn’t so disturbed about his two worlds colliding, either.

Even Max seems to have undergone the effects of the Styles-charm, refusing to sit next to anyone but Gidget for most of the evening, and even demanding Harry cut up his food. Nick tries not to show his hurt, but the little comforting squeeze Louis gives his thigh probably means he fails at that. Harry, the tosser, just slides Max’s plate closer to him and makes it into some sort of archeology lesson as he cuts through the lasagna layer by layer.

Nick’s too afraid to ask, really.

At quarter past eleven, Louis reminds him that he’s got a class to teach early in the morning by whispering not so softly in Nick’s ear, the bottle of wine he’s had definitely having its effect. Harry stares at Nick with soft eyes as Nick bundles up a sleeping Max as best as he can and cradles the boy against his chest. There used to be a time when Nick thought that maybe he’d have all of this with Harry, before he’d realised Harry was definitely lower on the Kinsey scale than Nick had hoped he’d be. Now, though, being here with his two best friends and having his life go _right_ for the first time in what feels like a really long time, Nick just feels like maybe faith isn’t so bad after all. 

He says goodbye to Daisy and Harry with a kiss on their forehead and a whispered thanks, before he carefully guides a less-than-steady Louis to his car. Louis doesn’t stop babbling about how _incredible_ Nick’s friends are until Nick’s tucked him in tight in bed.

*

Lazy days with Gillian will forever be one of his favourite things to do on a Sunday, just the two of them (and the dogs) hanging on the couch and catching up on all the terrible reality telly they’ve missed over the week. Maybe some Indian takeaway if neither of them feel like cooking. Which, to be honest, they usually don’t.

Nick’s phone buzzes on the coffee table for the fourth time in a row as they’re watching last night’s _The Apprentice,_ which Nick hates, but Gillian seems to eat right up.

“Who’s that?” Gillian drawls lazily, eyes not leaving the screen as she pops another square of chocolate in her mouth.

“None of your business, you nosy bugger.” Still, he swipes his phone off the table.

There’s five text messages, all of them from Louis, except for the one that Harry sent over an hour ago. He opens up Louis’ thread first.

_‘did that just really happen’_

_‘nicholas’_

_‘please tell me if im dreaming because im about to buy a suit and i need to know okay’_

Frowning, Nick opens Harry’s message next.

_‘July 28th. Album Launch Party. 4 o’clock. I’ll send you the address later. I’d love for you to come. All the love. H x’_

In all honesty, Nick had completely forgotten that was coming up, even though everyone at work had been buzzing for weeks about the new Harry Styles record coming out and begging Nick for insider info. No one had believed him when he said that he hasn’t heard a single note so far. Him and Harry had both decided that they couldn’t go through the nerves of that first play all over again.

 _‘Don’t buy a suit,’_ he texts back, as Gillian tries to read over his shoulder. ‘ _God knows even Harry won’t be wearing one.’_

Louis reply is immediate. _‘but were going right’_

There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that Nick’s is missing out on what could be considered the most important event of the summer by most. That, and he’s a good, supportive friend.

‘ _Of course we are, love.’_

“Sickening, absolutely sickening,” Gillian singsongs as she snuggles closer to Nick and throws his phone somewhere on the cushions. “I hope you get married, fuck on every available surface and have a million adorable babies that you’ll let me watch every day.”

*

The day of Harry’s album party is there, and they get absolutely pissed.

Louis’ cheeks are red as they stumble out of the club, in that way they only get after you’ve drunk more than the recommended amount of mixed drinks. Harry is hanging off Nick’s left arm and Louis is tucked under Nick’s right, the flashes of the camera’s going absolutely wild as the fresh air hits them. Louis’ tongue is looser than normal, talking around Nick like he isn’t even there and praising Harry’s songwriting like the other man’s ego needs even more boosting.

“And then that verse on _Pacific Island_? Like mop me off the floor, please. Ugh, it’s incredible. You can really _feel_ the emotion in that, you know? Like the longing and the bitterness of someone moving on and then when you hit that last note, it’s just…”

Louis mimics an explosion. Nick squeezes his shoulder a little bit tighter as a flash blinds Louis and he trips over his feet.

“Fucking pillocks,” he curses but pokes at Harry again to get his attention. “And then the piano on the other one, what was it called-”

“ _Flower_?”

“-yes, exactly, the piano on _Flower_. So powerful. Absolutely perfect. When that guitar comes in and then that ‘ _blabla rolling in fields forever with you blabla_ ’ line? They might as well give you an Oscar immediately for that. Grammy. Emmy? ‘S whatever. They should give you all the prizes. Awards.”

It’s in that moment, Nick realises he’s head-over-heels, massively, _stupidly_ , in love with the bloke under his arm. It makes his stomach flip and he presses his lips together as to not blurt it out while they’re both too drunk to probably remember it in the morning. Holding it in takes a lot of effort.

When they’re waiting for Harry’s driver to pull up and take them home, Louis is still rambling about how great Harry, and his album, is, which is fine and all and Nick’s really glad that the two of them get on so well, but he’s drunk and needy and he would really appreciate some attention too. So he does the only thing he can think of in that moment, pulling Louis a little bit closer and smashing his lips into Louis’, muffling the praise that’s still coming out of his mouth.

As he pulls back, Louis’ got a dazed look on his eyes that’s enhanced by the flashes of cameras behind him and he’s got his hands gripped tight in Nick’s shirt. His pink is right there on Nick’s nipple and he’s not really pulling or scratching or rubbing, but it still sends a thrill through Nick, a shiver through his whole body. His hands are warm on Louis’ hips and he slips his thumbs under the hem of Louis’ shirt. Louis gasps softly, and it makes all of the blood in Nick’s body go south immediately.

“Uhm, guys? Car’s here?” Harry mumbles from somewhere next to him. Nick doesn’t really care, can’t stop staring at the lines around Louis’ eyes as he beams up at Nick and he lets go of Louis, just so he can press his thumb into Louis’ lip. 

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

Harry gives him a sharp tug around his waist, and Nick stumbles back a little, glaring at Harry as the other man tugs him in the direction of the car. With a push, he’s stumbling in, with Louis falling on his lap ten seconds later, hands immediately tugging on the buttons of Nick’s shirt.

Harry groans as he slides in next to him, taking one look at the pair before resolutely staring straight ahead. “Keep it in your pants, please? For me? At least until you get home.”

Nick wants to complain and remind Harry of all the times that he sat in the backseat while Harry had his fingers up some bird, but the words get stuck when Louis starts to lightly suck on his ear. As he turns his head, there’s a look on Harry’s face that he has trouble deciphering, but the moment he realises that the bowed head and bitten lip signal discomfort, he pulls his head away from Louis.

“Not now, alright?” he whispers to the boy, stroking his back. Louis glances at Harry, too, and nods in Nick’s shoulder. Harry smiles at him, relieved and thankful, and Nick just grins back at him. When they pull up to Louis’ flat, he’s fast asleep against Nick’s shoulder, soft snores barely audible over the hum of the engine and Nick lets his fingers trail over his face, before he maneuvers the two of them out of the car with a whispered thanks to Harry.

He can only bother with taking both of their shoes and trousers off before he gets frustrated with all of Louis’ limbs and buttons. Carefully, he puts Louis under the covers like that, with his shirt half open and socks still on, before he slides in next to him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ middle. It’s too hot for the end of July, but Louis’ shirt smells like cigarette smoke and _home_ and Nick falls asleep like that; slightly overheated and his nose against the back of Louis’ neck.

*

The sun blares through the window as Nick wakes up, because _of course_ he forgot to close the fucking blinds last night in his half-drunken haze. It’s a nice start to his holiday, though. If he squints his eyes just right and pretends the garbage lorry is cleaning off the streets of a small Spanish island after a wild night out on the town instead of collecting the weekly trash, it’s almost as if he’s taken his annual trip to better temperatures.

His phone seems to have been misplaced during their stumble to bed, so after a last kiss to Louis’ now bare shoulder, he quietly slips out. Louis snuffles once and rolls over to occupy Nick’s space of the bed as well.

Nick rolls his eyes.

The little display on the kitchen radio shows Nick it’s only 9:42, which means that he can catch exactly eighteen minutes of Greg taking over _his_ show and completely bollocking it up. He smiles gleefully as he makes himself a cup of tea. Before he sits down at his favourite spot -the chair in the corner that has a complete overview of the kitchen and the living area, because some days Nick loves to watch Louis fail to make breakfast-, he has a little search party for his phone, which he apparently decided would be well off in one of Louis’ old Adidas sneakers.

It’s dead, and when Nick plugs it into the charger near his head, he straightaway wishes it had stayed dead.

There’s two missed calls and a text from Harry, a voicemail from his mum, and a text from Aimee that’s just eleven question marks and nothing else. Just from the notification of a voicemail he can tell something wrong; Eileen hates talking to no one with a passion.

Nick taps Harry’s message with shaking hands, while Greg wishes them all a good rest of their day and the first few notes of Ariana Grande start in.

_‘I am so sorry. Here to talk, if you need. H x’_

Underneath is a link to an article in _the Sun_ , posted that morning. The dread swells up in his body, crawling up to his lungs and gripping them tight. Nick tries to take a couple of deep breaths, but self-preservation has never been his thing, so he’d rather know than forever wonder. He clicks on the link with his eyes closed.

When he opens his eyes and sees the headline, his stomach drops.

_EXCLUSIVE: THE TRAGIC PAST OF BBC RADIO DJ’S NEW BOYTOY UNCOVERED_

_It’s only been little over a month since Nick Grimshaw, 29, host of the Radio 1 Breakfast Show, sent us all in a collective search across the country after he let it slip to his producer he had a boyfriend waiting for him at home. Grimshaw, who is notorious for keeping his romantic life private and out of the eye of the public, has previously been linked to the likes of fashion designer Henry Holland, popstar Harry Styles, and a long list of London Fashion Week models. However, after last night’s elusive album release party for Harry Styles’ second album,_ the Sun _has gotten the scoop on Grimshaw’s new boytoy, teenage dad Louis Tomlinson._

 _Tomlinson, who sources claim is eight years the Radio DJ’s junior and a Master student at the University of Roehampton in London, has stayed out of the limelight so far and we can’t help but wonder why. In an exclusive interview with_ the Sun _, sources revealed that the past of the twenty-one-year old has been anything but smooth sailing and that he’s been hiding their relationship because he is looking for a fresh start in the capital._

_But what made the young man run all the way from Manchester, where he attended university, to the bustling city of London?_

_“The death of his boyfriend,” says our source, who would like to stay anonymous but says he is an old school friend of Tomlinson. “It was brutal. He was just walking home late one night and they attacked him out of nowhere. Was left for dead on the pavement. I don’t know who found him, but they said it wasn’t pretty.”_

_Newspaper articles found in archives confirm this, naming the boy as Amir Malik, a twenty-two year old Muslim man, who was studying Sound Engineering at the time of this murder, and was the baby daddy of Tomlinson’s son, who was barely nineteen months old at that time. It is not sure whether or not Tomlinson was dating Malik at that time, but it is claimed to have been the start of a mental breakdown._

_“It was horrible. It’s like he just shut down. His best friends took care of the little boy because he just couldn’t anymore. Spent a week in the psych ward at the local hospital and then packed his bag and moved to London, not even waiting for graduation.”_

_It seems he has found comfort in the arms of the older radio DJ, who was seen last year at one of the protest marches calling attention to the rising number of hate crimes against Muslims that spawned all across the country after the attack on Malik. Friends of Grimshaw have said that he is often a shoulder to cry on for the younger man and that he sees Tomlinson’s son as his own, taking care of the boy whenever his dad shuts down from grief._

_Whether Tomlinson has indeed found the fresh start he was looking for with the older DJ or if he’s just another notch on his lover’s bedpost, we hope that we can dust off our suits for an allegedly autumnal wedding._

Nick’s phone clatters on the table as he rushes to the sink to hurl. 

_Amir_.

He knows better than anyone not to believe anything _the Sun_ or the _Daily Mail_ or any gossip mag says, but the picture, right there beneath the cold and cruel ‘ _start of a mental breakdown_ ’, couldn’t lie. Doesn’t lie. It is like looking straight at a grown-up version of Max; same eyes, same ears, same grin on his face as the boy has his arm wrapped around an even younger-looking Louis.

His mind is running a mile a minute, overanalyzing every sentence and wondering why the ever loving fuck Louis never told him any of this. Did he not trust Nick with something so so painful or was he not important enough to Louis to share something like that with him? He thought Louis didn’t believe a thing what the papers were saying, that it was all Zayn who was so against him, but then why hasn’t he _said_ anything?

He heaves again, last night's alcohol finding its way out again, before he wipes his mouth on a tea towel and crawls back into his corner seat. Fumbling with his phone, he presses call before he can second guess himself.

“Grimmy?” Harry’s voice is tinny over the speakers. “Gimme a second.”

Nick stares forlornly at his mug while the background noise on Harry’s side slowly disappears.

“Sorry, I was about to start an interview. You alright?”

It doesn’t even register that Harry’s got better things to do. “You read it?”

“I- yeah. I’m so sorry, love.”

Nick breathes out, shakingly. “I don’t understand. Why hasn’t he told me, Haz?”

“Oh, love. I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s a big thing, innit? Have you asked him?”

Nick shakes his head, furiously wiping his eyes. “No. He’s- he’s still asleep.”

Asleep and blissfully unaware of how his whole life just got laid out for the whole of Britain to scrutinise.

“Maybe wait for him-”

Jeff calls Harry’s name loud enough that even Nick can hear him loud and clearly through the speaker. Harry whines in protest, but then sighs when his manager speaks a lot softer.

“I gotta go,” Harry says, reluctantly. “But talk to him. Do not let this eat you up, you hear me? Let him explain.”

“Yeah, Nick croaks out, licking the salt from his lips. “Yeah, I will. Thanks.”

In the twenty seconds it takes for Harry to hang up on him, Nick’s back to feeling numb. He just can’t process any of it, can’t process that Louis hasn’t told him, that he’d never given Nick the chance to _understand_ or _help_ or just. Know. He really, really would’ve liked to just fucking know. It’s been almost four months. Four months in which Louis has never as so much _hinted_ at having a dead boyfriend, never given Nick any reason not to believe that Zayn is apparently not the father of the little boy he’s been moving fucking mountains for, never opening up and showing Nick the ugliest parts of him.

It fucking hurts.

His tea’s gone cold by the time he hears Louis shuffling out toward him. When there’s a soft sniff from the direction of the doorway, Nick lets his eyes gaze up.

Louis looks terrible.

There’s this instant _need_ to reach out and touch as he takes in Louis’ appearance, white as a sheet, eyes red-rimmed and drowning in a purple hoodie Nick’s never seen before. It tugs at Nick’s heartstrings, how forlorn and almost scared he looks as he hovers in his own kitchen, like Nick’s just gonna kick him out of his own place.

“Hi,” Louis whispers softly, tired smile not meeting his eyes.

“Hiya. Have you…” he gestures at his phone, as if that holds the answers to the whole fucking universe, but Louis nods, once.

“I- yeah. Zayn’s call woke me up.”

Right. Zayn. Who’s _‘when he was most vulnerable and fucking yearning for that bit of comfort’-_ spiel all of a sudden makes so much more sense.

“Can we-” Louis wipes his eyes while Nick dumbly stays seated. “Can we talk?”

Nick nods, getting to his feet and dumping his cold tea in the sink, washing away some of the sick that’s still clinging to the metal. He flips the kettle on again, pops out two paracetamol from the package stowed away in the cupboard above the sink, and hands them to Louis with a glass of water.

“Here,” he croaks. “Reckon your hangover is even worse than mine. I’ll wait on the couch yeah?”

As he passes Louis, he presses a fleeting kiss to the man’s temple. He hasn’t forgotten yesterday’s late-night revelation, and somehow it feels important that Louis knows how completely barking mad Nick is for him. With or without his secrets. Even if it hurts.

While Louis waits for the tea to steep, Nick gathers all the blankets and pillows he can find around Louis’ place, piling them all on the couch to make one big nest, before he buries himself underneath them. It’s still early enough that it isn’t sweltering hot yet and Nick reckons that they both need all the comfort in the form of soft fleece they can get.

He gently takes a mug out of Louis’ hands when the other man hands it over.

“Right,” Louis whispers as he snuggles under a blanket, his toes pressed into Nick’s thigh. He then stares at his mug for a good solid minute.

“I haven’t read it,” he confesses. “The article, I mean. Zayn read it to me, but I didn’t read it meself. Not sure I want to, either.”

“Don’t,” Nick says, squeezing his bare ankle. “S not worth it. It’s trash.”

Louis stares at him, face guarded. “Thanks. ‘S a bit true though, innit?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

That seems to startle Louis. He blinks at Nick before he takes a deep, shaky, breath. “I think it is. Most of it at least. The important bits.”

“What’s the important bits?” Nick can guess, but he needs to hear it out loud.

There’s no hesitation. “Everything about Amir.”

“Why have you never told me? About him, I mean. About Amir.”

“ _Because_.” Louis says, as if that’s as good a reason as he’s gonna give.

“Christ, Louis,” Nick curses, gripping his mug tight. Louis looks at him with wide, glistening eyes. It’s so unlike him, nothing of his usual fierceness or stubbornness shining through that it unsettles Nick. “That’s not a reason. Why didn’t you fucking tell me? Did you think I was gonna think less of you or summat? I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me something so fucking important.”

“Because I didn’t know how, alright?” He’s raised his voice and Nick lets his hand travel to his ankle again, giving it a gentle squeeze to calm Louis down. He’s not looking for a fight. He just wants to understand. It seems like Louis gets it, because with his next exhale, he turns slightly on the sofa, facing Nick. He reaches out, seemingly hesitant, so Nick just offers his hand instead, showing him that he truly is willing to listen, that he cares so, so much. Louis clasps their palms together and lets their hands rest on the blankets between them.

“He was- God, he was my _everything_ , Nick. He was my sun and my stars and whatever other bullshit they use in those cheesy novels to describe the dashing love interest, because to me, he was all of it. We met when we were six and he was my first everything. He was my whole life. Which is ridiculous when you look at it, because we were so young, but I knew he was the one, you know? And I just- I didn’t know how to tell you. Liam kept telling me I should, and I was going to, if you would ever bring up Max’s other dad, but you never did. You never once asked. And I just didn’t know how to drop it into a conversation. That my heart got broken beyond repair when I was just twenty and that there would always be a part of me that was going to love someone else, too. That my heart would never be truly, completely yours.”

The sleeve of Louis’ hoodie is soaked from where he’d wiped Nick and his own tears away, his gaze on their intertwined fingers. It feels like there’s something stuck in Nick’s throat, a brick of emotion that won’t be swallowed down no matter how hard he tries. In front of him is a boy, really, who was supposed to have a happily ever after with the love of his life, and instead he’s here with Nick. Which he is insanely grateful for, but it’s not fair to say the least, and he bloody hates the universe sometimes.

Nick untangles their fingers, puts his mug on the floor, and lets his thumbs stroke under Louis’ eyes, catching a few stray tears.

“Like that,” he says, voice full of emotion. “You could’ve told me just like that.”

Louis sniffs as he stares at Nick, confused and so fucking lovely Nick’s heart feels like it’s about to burst. Nick gives him a tiny smile, well aware of how his face is a complete mess and it probably won’t make him look any more sane.

“You don’t mind?” Louis asks, quietly.

“I think- I think I mind that you didn’t tell me,” he says carefully. “That you somehow thought that I wouldn’t take this well, or summat. That you didn’t trust me with this. But I don’t think I mind about you being not completely mine. As long as I still get bits of you, then it’s alright.”

“You do like my bits,” Louis jokes, but it falls a bit flat. Nick snorts watery, anyway.

“Promise me you’ll tell me next time? If there’s something I should know? Even if I never ask?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, I promise.”

“God, I thought- I never asked because I thought he was Zayn’s.”

Louis looks genuinely taken aback at that. “What?”

“Max. I fucking thought he was Zayn’s. That’s why I never asked.” He leaves out the bit where he was so desperate for Zayn’s approval and so jealous of the role he still played in Louis’ life because of that. Now that it’s all out there, it feels kind of stupid. How Max never really stayed with Zayn for long periods of time, never called him dad, didn’t stay with him for Father’s Day, probably went with him for Eid because that is where _Amir_ ’s family would’ve been.

“Again, what? Why did you think that? Zayn’s- Zayn’s been Liam’s for longer that I was… you know. Than I was Amir’s.”

It feels almost stupid now Nick has to say it out loud. “They look a lot alike. Their eyes and stuff.” _Skin colour, hair, mannerisms._

A soft look takes over Louis’ face at that. “Oh. Yeah. They’ve both got ‘the Malik eyes’, as everyone keeps telling me. Amir did too. Him and Zayn are cousins. Were cousins, I guess. I’m- I’m sorry if I ever said or did anything to reinforce that idea. That he was Zayn’s, I mean. I’m sorry.”

Louis lets his head fall against shoulder, and Nick tugs well enough on him until Louis’ got his back pressed against Nick’s chest. He toys with the hem of Louis’ hoodie, before covering the two of them beneath layers of blankets again.

“It’s alright. Do you… do you want to tell me about him? About Amir? About what happened?” He mumbles it softly in Louis’ ear, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to speak about it out loud. Louis stiffens a little in his hold.

“We don’t need to,” he says, carefully. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do this. Pretending you want to know.”

“I’m not pretending, promise. I think I’d like to know about him. Your story. If you want to tell me, that is.”

If Aimee was here, she’d tell him to stop fucking torturing himself and let things rest. He can’t though. He doesn’t think he’s that kind of person. _I’d rather know what I’m up against_ , he thinks, before he reminds himself that it’s not a competition.

“I think I’d like that.” Louis melts back against his chest and takes a last sip of his tea before he wraps Nick’s arms around him. “We grew up together, basically. I’ve been best friends with Zayn since birth, really, and Amir was over at theirs all the time so it was only natural that we became the best of friends, too, of course.”

“Obviously,” Nick drawls. He feels Louis grin against his cheek.

“He was bright like the sun. Always smiling. He was fucking hilarious, too. Looked amazing in his school uniform, it was so unfair. Reckon that’s mostly the reason I almost failed my A-levels. I was a bit obsessed with how he looked and what he could do with his dick when we were seventeen.”

“I don’t know why that doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

“Oh, shush. It’s just. He complimented me, I guess. He was a tad more quiet than I was, always managed to get me to slow the fuck down when I needed to take a step back. My mum loved him, too. Said he was my anchor. His parents weren’t too fond of me, though. Reckon they still think I dragged him to the depths of hell and never gave him back. They love Max though, and that’s what matters, innit?”

Nick hums, nose pressed against Louis’ face. It does something funny to his chest, the way Louis so carelessly talks about another man, another man that he _loved,_ but he tries to squash it down. His own jealousy is insignificant now.

“How- What happened? The article said, but-”

Louis shrugs. “‘S what they said, really. Halfway through my first year, it turned out that being reckless and liking taking it up the arse aren’t two things that really mesh. I got knocked up, right after winter hols. I swear we did everything right. We fought when the pregnancy hormones drove me fucking _nuts_ but Amir would always come back home with a million cookies that the ladies at his mosque had made and it was just- nice. I loved being doted on, to absolutely no one’s surprise. 

Right before the start of my second year, Max was born and he was the most precious thing. I think we both cried for days after he was born, just because we were so grateful, you know? He had the tiniest hands and feet you ever did see.”

Louis takes a shaking breath and Nick tightens his grip in response. 

“It was alright for a bit. We spent a year mostly sleeping through our classes and staying up through the night. Don’t think there wasn’t a person on campus who didn’t watch Max for a couple of hours. It was a fucking miracle, but I aced all my classes in my last year because Niall wouldn’t let me fail and made me study my arse off.

And then everything went to shit. Amir- he was really big on this faith, you know? Like religion was important to him. I never really understood, because even growing up around their houses and their traditions, it just wasn’t for me, I guess. But he was so sure of his faith, of Allah. It was so fucking important to him.”

Nick wipes Louis’ eyes with the corner of a blanket, shushing him softly. “It’s alright, love. It’s alright.”

“Amir led this Quran study group for younger kids every Wednesday night. Learning them the basic rules of tajweed and helping them with memorisation, that sort of stuff. He’d stayed late one week in March to help some of the dad’s set up for an event.They just- they said they came out of nowhere. Jumped him as he was walking back and stabbed him so many times that they’re not even sure what _exactly_ he died of first. No one did a fucking thing. This woman called a fucking ambulance but she didn’t even fucking help him, just let him bleed out there on the floor. I fucking-”

Louis sobs loudly, and Nick presses himself even closer to Louis’ back, his heart breaking piece by piece for the younger boy. There’s nothing he can say or do that will make the hurt go away. He can’t even imagine what it would be like, your whole world falling apart like that, your future so cruelly decided by the actions of others.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, love,” he whispers. “You didn’t deserve to go through that.”

“Max was just nineteen months,” Louis gets out between sobs, shoulders shaking. “Nineteen months when he lost his dad and I just. I lost it. There wasn’t a person on campus who wasn’t whispering behind my back, who didn’t come up to me with that curious look in their eyes when they offered their condolences, as if I was a bloody panda in the zoo. Think I cried my way through the months until graduation and then I just packed up everything and left. Texted Bressie who was living in London and he let me stay above his shop and here we are. Me being the shit dad who doesn’t know how to raise his son right and just sobbed all over his boyfriend over another man.”

Nick’s breath stocks at that admission and he knows he can’t wrap Louis up even tighter without literally crawling into him, but he still tries. 

“Lou, no. C’mon. You’re not a shit dad. Everyone with eyes can see that, yeah? You’re each other’s world. Max loves you. And quite honestly, you can cry all over me anytime. About old boyfriends or anything else.”

“‘S just- I don’t know how to raise him. Raise him how Amir would’ve wanted, I mean. I haven’t got a fucking clue about what it means to be a Muslim or how to raise my child like one. All I know is what I saw and what he told me, and I never fucking paid enough attention because I always reckoned he was the one who was gonna take care of that bit, wasn’t I? He would be the one to take Max to mosque and teach him how to read the Quran and share values and whatever else you’re all supposed to do.

I don’t know shit about how to make him feel like part of the community. I can’t tell him off by saying how disappointed Allah would be in him, because I don’t fucking believe in a god, but I still want him to know it’s okay if he does. It’s so fucking hard and I know Zayn tries his best by taking him with and learning him all he knows and teaching him the importance of faith and family, and I am so fucking grateful, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same as if Amir would’ve done it. It doesn’t mean shit that Max finally learned how to say ‘father’ in Arabic the other week, because the person who was supposed to understand him is fucking dead.”

Even Nick’s proper crying at that point, his tears landing on Louis’ shoulder, already making a wet patch on the fabric. He tries not to sniff too loudly in Louis’ ear.

“I reckon Amir would be well proud of you,” he says with a rough voice. “He’d see that you’re doing your best, that you’re raising a wonderful little boy while going for your Masters and teaching posh kids yoga all at the same time. You’re doing the best you can, love. It might not be what the two of you had planned, but you’re still teaching him. After that whole experience, you could’ve just ignored that part of his life. Kept him safe, maybe. But instead you want to do what Amir would’ve wanted and I think that’s what matters. Max will see that, too, when he’s older.”

“You think?” Louis’ voice is tiny.

“I know,” Nick assures him. 

He lets the silence wash over them, only getting disturbed by Louis’ soft sniffles. He lets his fingers glide over Louis’ hands, tracing his knuckles as he processes everything. He’s still hurt, doesn’t think that will go away with just a snap of his fingers, but at least he’s closer to understanding the other man’s reasoning, the part he played in the process. It’s clear that he should’ve just _asked_ Louis, instead of just assuming and never confirming. Maybe then, he would have known how to handle Zayn. Maybe then, they wouldn’t have been here, crying over an article that flipped both their worlds upside down.

“What do you want to do?” Nick asks once a couple of minutes have passed. “About the article, I mean.”

Louis sighs. “Don’t know. I’ve never had bad press written about me. How do you usually handle this? I think Zayn glossed over some bits, so I don’t even know how bad it really is.”

“It’s…” Nick searches for the right word. “Bad? There’s the general bit, which they seem to have gotten mostly right, but then there’s the million references to our ages, them calling Amir your baby daddy, saying you were shipped of to a psych ward, sobbing all over me in grief every evening, all the usual made up bullshit.”

Nick feels Louis wince at that. “What do you usually do?”

 _Ignore it until everyone has forgotten about it,_ Nick thinks, but he doesn’t think that’s possible now. People are going to care. The public loves a good sob story. Besides, Nick’s never quite had to deal with articles like _this_. “I don’t think we can get it taken offline, since there’s nothing they will see as damaging in there. Reckon the best we can do is either come out about it publicly, or just keep mum and hope everyone forgets.”

“They won’t,” Louis snorts. “I don’t- I don’t want the public thing. I never did. That’s not what this is all about, you and me.”

“I know. Trust me, I know.”

“What if…what if you just posted something? Not like a whole interview or a statement but just like a small thing. To get the real story out.”

“I- yeah, maybe. I’ll give it a think. Can we just- Can we just have a cuddle? I’m fucking exhausted.”

It coaxes a giggle out of Louis, who then lets himself be manhandled until Nick’s got the two of them lying chest to chest on the couch, blankets kicked to their feet because Nick was reaching the point of being too bloody hot. He lets himself revel in having Louis close, the way Louis’ eyelashes flutter against his cheek as he softly scratches his fingers through Nick’s morning stubble. He feels closer to Louis than ever, doesn’t know whether that’s because of whatever he’d realised last night or what this morning brought to the surface, but he knows that he’ll treasure all the little broken parts of Louis’ heart that the other man’s willing to give to him.

He must fall asleep like that, body intertwined with Louis and his neck at some weird angle, because the next thing he knows, there’s the sound of a lock being turned and heavy feet trying to walk quietly up the stairs.

“Shh, you gotta be quiet, little buddy.”

Nick softly wakes Louis up at the sound of Bressie bringing Max home. Louis’ toenails scratch his shins as he stretches out and he flips onto his other side to wave at Max, who’s staring at them and their massive pile of blankets with confusion in his eyes.

“Hi, baby,” Louis cooes softly, holding his arms out so Max can climb right up. “Did you have a good time at Uncle Niall and Bressie’s?”

Max nods, shyly holding his hands out, where his nails are painted in a shade of purple that Nick quite likes.

“Sorry, Laura was over,” Bressie says sheepishly, leaning against the doorway. “He wouldn’t stop bothering her until she’d done his nails, too.”

“That’s okay, I think they look very pretty.”

Max gins up at his dad, before he crawls over to Nick and settles down in his lap, showing off his hands to him as well.

“Love that colour,” Nick says earnestly, ignoring the silent conversation that seems to be going on beside him. He snuggles Max close.

“You two are alright then?” About as subtle as Nick could’ve expected from the Irishman, he reckons.

Louis hums. “We’re- yeah, reckon we’re fine, actually.”

Nick winks at him as Bressie lets out a relieved sigh. “Good. You did see the-”

“We did,” Nick interrupts. “And it’s good. We’re good. Like he said.”

“Good.”

Bressie hovers for another awkward moment before he shrugs. “Alright. Bye then, Max. See you next time!”

“Bye bye bye,” Max babbles, waving with the hand that isn’t clutching onto Nick’s necklaces. Nick’s tried prying them off before, but it’s futile. He just hopes Max grows out of that fase pretty soon. If not, he’ll just stop wearing them all together.

“Do you want to watch Cars?”

Max turns around so fast at Louis’ question that Nick has to stop him from toppling off the couch headfirst. With a grin, Louis snuggles up to the two of them, distributing blankets again like it isn’t the bloody middle of summer and they’re not currently in a heat wave. He tosses the remote to Nick, who gets Netflix on with just a few clicks and then he rests his head against the back of the couch, ready to sleep his way through Lightning McQueen pushing Weathers over the finish line. He’ll do that Instagram post about him and Louis or summat later.

It turns out Louis has other plans though.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers from Nick’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

Nick strokes Louis hair carefully. “I wish you’d have told me sooner,” he confesses quietly, eyes closed. “Not like, on the first date, but some other time in the past four months.”

“I know. I really am sorry, Nick. Like I said, I just- I didn’t know how.”

“It’s alright,” he sighs. “You told me now, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis is quiet for a bit, watching as McQueen stands in the back of a truck, doing god knows what. Then, in a tiny voice, “you still like me?”

Nick breathing stocks in his throat, before he exhales harsly. “Might even love you, I reckon.”

Louis stiffens beneath his arms, his shoulders tight under where Nick is holding him. Nick holds his breath, because quite honestly, he hadn’t really planned on saying that _right now_ but it might be as good as a time as ever. Maybe Louis needs the reassurance. Maybe _Nick_ does. Maybe he just needs to say it out loud so he can truly believe it. The thought is still just as terrifying as it was last night, that he someone managed to fall in love with someone against all odds, but mostly, it just feels absolutely right.

It takes a proper few seconds before he feels the tension leaving Louis’ body, before he melts right back into Nick with Max squeezed between them.

“I- yeah. The same. For me, I mean. Reckon I might love you, too.”

Nick grins widely, squeezing Louis’ shoulder and peeking out of the corner of his eye, where Louis is blushing furiously but looking so damn pleased.

“Good,” Nick says, choking out a laugh, his chest feeling a million times lighter than even an hour ago. Things may not be great, not yet, but somehow, this feels like the first proper step in the direction of being in an actual, functioning, healthy relationship and it’s such a fucking relief. It’s what he’d always been looking for, a hushed confession to Aimee over too expensive phone calls in the middle of the night. It’s that what he’s been looking for in the arms of complete strangers but what none of them ever could provide.

It’s that what he’s found himself, here, on the couch with his two boys, hungover and emotionally drained but surrounded by their warmth and their comfort and their unconditional _love_.

A family.


End file.
